dissonance. (a Böhme novel) (7 page)

“You’re bouncing around topics today Hannah. Bird is a word my dad uses, and I decided to follow suit. Yes, she was bitchy last night, but I’m not worried,” I said.

“Neither am I Blake. If she knows what’s good for her she will lay off the bitchiness. If not, she’ll have me to answer to,” she said.

“Honestly Hannah, I'd be more concerned for you when it comes to Brecken,” I said with a laugh.

“Awe! Her name is Brecken?” she asked. “That’s the coolest fucking name. Tell me more of her story,” she said.

“He said she’s a drummer,” Wynn said.

“That’s cool. Hey Wynn, you’re getting a call—it’s Sid. We’re going to have to let you go Blake. We’ll see you later though?” she asked.

“Yep, I’ll be there. Later guys.”

I ended the call and lay back in bed, wondering what it was they had to share with us later and if Sid was coming to the exhibit as well. Part of me selfishly hoped they were moving back to town. I knew Sid would like that as well.

Sid was Wynn’s father. He wasn’t his biological father, and he never adopted him, but he was his guardian from the age of sixteen until he was a legal adult. Sid lived near us and he was always there for Wynn when he needed help.

Wynn grew up with his mother and she was the exact opposite of mine. It was as if she'd be happier if Wynn didn’t exist. But then at times she treated him as a possession, not as her son—not wanting to share him with others or let him out of her sight.

As a kid I tried everything in my power to make Wynn's life better. He said to me at times when it was rough for him,
“Blake, act crazy. I need to laugh.”

Then I did. I made myself look like a total ass, just to get him to laugh in the hopes of making his life, if just for a moment, happier.

As a kid, you don’t understand when something is wrong. You put your trust in adults because it’s their job to show you how to be a good person. Yeah, sometimes every parent screws up; it’s a fact of life. So as a kid, when your parent is upset or yelling, you might think it’s another screw up an adult is making for a time. But sometimes the screw ups are bigger, and you still keep your mouth shut, because you know it won’t always be bad—it can’t be.

That’s what I did my entire childhood—kept my mouth shut, waiting for things to move up the hill and out of the bad times.

How could I tell an adult that another adult was doing something wrong? Most don’t want to listen to kids. They assume kids always tell stories.

They’re okay with the concept or idea that kids have the ability to create amazingly tall tales, but as humans grow older, rationalization takes the lead. Adults never exaggerate and they always tell the truth—right? Sure they do, that’s why comedians
never
make fun of politicians.

For most adults, rationalization is their reality. If Wynn’s mom said things were fine, things were fine. I used to get upset that Sid and my parents never tried to help Wynn. But they were rationalizing. They didn’t want to believe things were as bad as they appeared. But I never tried to tell them what was happening, and neither did Wynn. I also never knew for sure. I could’ve been exaggerating things in my mind. We had a don’t ask, don’t tell policy when it came to things at home for Wynn.

I climbed from bed and made myself breakfast before I put on my sweatpants to go for a bike ride. This was something I loved doing, but only managed to do on the weekend. I have a hard enough time waking up in the morning for work, let alone getting up early to ride my bike.

I wished I lived farther out of town, because riding the streets was not as fun as trails. I made do though. But nothing could compare to the freedom experienced when riding through the woods.

I rode a few miles before rounding back toward my apartment.

A block before my building was Tommy’s Barber Shop. I have gone here since I first started growing facial hair. I grew up coming to this place with my dad. He’d come here every Saturday morning and bring me with him. I’d watch how serious Tommy took his job and how serious my dad was about getting his shave. So I can say I’ve never shaved myself. I’m twenty-four and never shaved.

I bought a coffee from a small café and walked my bike the rest of the way to Tommy’s.

I leaned my bike against the front window of the shop before I walked in and found Tommy in his usual place. That chair of his was as much a part of him as reading the paper.

“You know those aren’t going to be around much longer?” I asked as I took the other chair next to him.

“I’m not going to be around much longer either. Do you see me going around telling everyone of it?” he asked with a glance over his glasses at me, effectively telling me to shut the hell up.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, except for the sound of
Dreams
by Fleetwood Mac coming in across his old radio. It was a radio too, not a stereo. I swear it must have been here since he opened the place. I had many memories of that radio and the songs my dad and Tommy listened to on it.

I quietly drank my coffee as he continued turning the pages of the paper. As I watched him thumb through the pages I thought of one of the times Wynn came here with me. We were both in high school and Wynn already had a scruffy beard. I admitted to him that I had beard envy. I had too much of my Irish father in me and the most I could grow was a rat-like mustache. I grew just enough facial hair for it to be an annoyance though and not enough to have anything substantial.

That time when Wynn came in, Tommy asked him if he wanted a shave. Wynn of course, not liking to be touched, had said he could handle his own shave. And that’s how it always was with Wynn—he wanted to handle things himself.

Tommy gave a quick shake of the paper, folded it and placed it on the end table next to him. “Okay, I can shave you now.”

I gave him a nod and set my coffee on the same table as his paper. The song switched over to a Stealers Wheel song as the door to the shop opened and Karl entered. Without any acknowledgement of either Tommy or me, he took a seat and rested his hands on his knees. He sat with his back straight and watched us, giving a slight nod and finally said, “Hello.”

“Hey Karl, how you doing this morning?” Tommy asked.

“I’m doing well. What do you think of this?” he asked as he scratched along his jaw line and pulled on his short beard. “I’ve noticed people take me more seriously with it. Plus I’ve decided to save my money and not spend it on my appearance.”

“Wow, I take offense to that,” I said with a laugh. “If I could, I would be right there with you.”

“I also figured it’d go along with my job. What better way to portray yourself as a construction worker than with a big ass beard? I’m going to wear a bandana tied around my head too—just wait.” He spoke dryly, but wore a smile on his face. He was the strangest guy I ever met. But in his strangeness, he managed to make everyone comfortable. It was as if people thought,
“This guy is completely fucked. I'm sane compared to him and he isn’t going to judge me in the least.”
Then they drop their guard and talk to him.

I laughed as Tommy wrapped a hot towel over my face, ultimately keeping me from speaking.

“Pike said Hannah and Wynn are supposed to be there tonight,” Karl said. “He said Sid’s coming too. That makes me nervous.”

Tommy lifted the towel from my face.

“Why?” I asked and as I spoke my phone beeped that I had a message. “Can you check that for me man? It’s sitting by my coffee.”

Karl stood to get my phone. “I'm not comfortable with people I know examining my art. It makes me anxious, as if they’re seeing a more intimate side of me,” he said as he grabbed my phone to read the message and smiled at me. “Umm, that's interesting,” he said as he turned my phone toward me, showing myself and Tommy the image of a very naked Abby.

“Oh man, what the fuck is she thinking?” I asked as I rested my head back again. “Delete it and don’t respond to her.”

Karl started to delete the image when another message came through and an even larger smile formed. “This one you’ll want to keep. That’s a nice statement to make,” he said as he handed my phone to me.

I lifted it above my reclined head to read the message and read Brecken’s name and couldn’t help but give a cheesy smile.

Brecken McNett: Mornin'. Sorry for last night. I’m not usually that defensive. I blame it on the shit night I had.

Then she posted a link to the song,
The Bitch is Back
by Elton John.

I laughed loud enough to cause Tommy to jump, and he nicked my chin with the blade. With a sigh he dropped his hand to his side, “That wasn’t my doing so I won’t count it on my accidents board,” he said with annoyance.

“No need, it was my fault.” I sat up, took the towel from him and wiped the remaining cream from my face. It was good enough. Like I said, I don’t have much facial hair to begin with.

I grabbed my coffee and turned to Karl, “You ready?”

“Yeah,” he said as he headed to the door.

_______________

We took my mountain bike back to my apartment and headed to Karl’s garage. It was little more than a shed, but it was his and he took care of it. It was behind Sid’s house and across the street from my parents’ house. Everyone at the Böhme supported Karl, and it has been cool to watch how he has come out of his shell the last year.

Karl lived in the woods for a time after he got out of the military. He wasn’t nuts, he needed the time to himself. He told me once if he hadn’t gotten away from people for those few weeks, he'd be crazier than he was.

I turned into Sid’s drive and Sid came out to his porch to meet us. He was wearing an old bathrobe that he had since Wynn and I were kids. I’m sure he’s owned it for even longer. He waved to us as he sipped his coffee.

His porch was a bright green and the rest of the house was white. Metal sculptures stood guard across the railing of the porch and a tall metal peacock stood on the front lawn. Surrounding the peacock were blue stones. The creatures across his house and lawn were like a brightly colored Terracotta Army, only instead of soldiers they were random animals. My mom used to complain about his random art. Then she met Sid and couldn’t complain any more.

The guy was just too nice not to like him or his sculptures. It also helped that he made her an iguana sculpture. I looked across the street and smiled at my mom’s own brightly painted animal.

I parked and Karl jumped out. While pulling the shed keys from his pocket, he waved to Sid. “Hey Sid, we’re coming by to pick up my boxes.”

“I see that,” Sid said in response to Karl, and waving me towards himself.

“Hey man,” I said as he pulled me in for a manly embrace. Yeah, he embraced me. Sid was a hugger. He rarely hugged Wynn though, but that was not Sid’s choice.

“I talked to Wynn and he said he and Hannah are coming tonight. I miss those kids,” Sid said with excitement. Sid loved Wynn as if he was his son and I hoped that one day Wynn would be able to hug the dude without feeling weird. I think that’d be the best gift he could give Sid.

“Yeah I heard. So you’re going?” I asked.

He ran his hand through his thick gray hair and adjusted his glasses. “Unfortunately, I’m not going to be able to make it until late. I’m booked most of the day. But after my last customer I’m heading over,” Sid said.

“Awesome,” I said.

“Well, I’ll leave ya to it.” He nodded toward the shed Karl had escaped to. “Don’t let Karl get too worked up over this showing,” he said with a smile as he turned to go back in his house. “You know how he gets.”

I found Karl in the shed working on separating several boxes from other boxes. “Are the art pieces in those?” I asked.

“No, those are the pieces,” he said as he picked one of them up and lifted the lid. “See, have a look.”

He stood and showed me the box. Inside was an entire scene painted in three dimensions. This gave the impression you could touch the contents of the painting. It was of a miniature of the solar system and the planets looked as though they floated in orbit, but that was the trick of his painting.

“Dude, these are fucking awesome. What are the others?” I asked.

He handed me another one, and I looked inside to see a street scene with people sitting outside a café.

“Each of them is a life,” he said in his usual dry sincere tone. “It represents how every life is sheltered from the other lives around them. We’re just stacked next to each other, never interacting. But our lives are our world, regardless of the solitude.”

Holy shit, Karl is fucking deep.

“You never cease to amaze, man.” I said as I looked around at the stacks of boxes. The work he had put into them showed and I wondered how many hours of his time he wrapped into these boxes. “Okay, do you know which you want to take?” I asked.

He turned absently around the shed, taking in each of them as if he could tell what they were by evaluating the outside of them. In a weird way, I believed he could.

“You think I can take every one of them?” he asked as he dropped his hands to his sides.

“Yes, we should be able to get them in there,” I said as I began to take them to my Jeep.

__________