Chapter 27: Chilled to the Bone
'One, two, one-two-three-four!'
Claire's guitar moaned a long, growing note. Just as it was about to die, Ted came in, transition perfectly seamless. The brass Tibetan bowl he used was supposed to sing, but he made it ring instead, a steady, fast stream of surprisingly low notes. When the baseline was established, he hit the drum, making a fast series of strikes. Then pause. Then another drum roll, this one longer, more threatening. Another pause, then repeat. Disciplined, sullen, sinister.
Claire joined next, same pattern: one low note, over and over again, repeating the rings of the brass bowl. Dylan was mirroring her, his rhythm guitar creating a calculating, unnerving dissonance. Then Nelly came in, flawless, playing of the drum, two simple sequences of chords echoing its rhythm.
They created a strong melody, aggressive, imminent, beautifully symmetrical. But also monotone, almost blend. So by design.
I came in last, making it all sing. A chaotic, yet perfectly timed series of high notes, going up, then pause, then same notes backward, going down, then pause, one note up, one note down. Repeat. Our tapestry was ready, and now it was time for Dylan to fill it with emotion. When he started singing, I closed my eyes, and let myself dissolve into music.
It was a beautiful song, sharp and dark, almost macabre. Claire called it 'Chilled to the Bone', and when I asked her what it was about, she said simply that it was about being cold. The song was quite different from anything Claire wrote before. But then, many things changed in the month since the ill-fated Solstice party.
Dylan was sporting a full beard now, looking even more like a person you would want to listen to, a tortured artist. When we joked about it, he just smiled and shrugged, saying nothing. Nelly's hair grew longer, Ted finally managed to quit smoking. He was in a habit of playing with coins now, spinning them between his fingers absentmindedly, performing simple tricks for our amusement.
I changed, too. Maybe not in a good way, but becoming more effective. Focused. There was a strange feeling in my chest now, like constant fuel. Not anger, because anger was hot and irrational. Not fury, because fury was righteous. Perhaps hatred. I guess it was always there, seething, festering. I even knew when it first infected me, remembered it in perfect detail. It happened the morning I surrendered my mother to the PA, when I opened the door, and a fat panting Protector looked at me with irritation, and said: 'Goddammit, boy.'
Goddammit, boy.
It was there for a long time, sleeping. But it was shaken awake when Mitchel's fist crashed into my face, salty taste of blood on my tongue. It took root now, it was growing now. Cold, patient. Getting stronger, ready to bloom.
I felt it streaming through my veins, every second of every day. In my heart, in my mind, making me more aware, more careful, determined. But also more lonesome, more hopeless, and a little bit afraid of myself.
The only time the hatred stopped was when I was with Claire. Everything was better when I was with Claire.
But things were weird between us.
A couple of days after the party, she came to the bar. I dreaded that conversation, but also longed for it. She sat at her usual spot, smiled, and said:
'Hi, Matt.'
I poured her beer, and we were quiet for a couple of minutes. Then she said:
'Thanks for getting me home after the party.'
'Sure, no problem.'
She looked down.
'Listen... about what happened...'
There was regret in her voice, but also sadness.
'I was quite out of it, you know? Shit, of course you do. Anyway, I don't remember much about what happened. Classic Claire, puking in a stranger's bathroom, right? But I do remember I said some terrible things to you.'
She sighed.
'I'm sorry. I didn't mean them.'
Then she looked up, a small sad smile on her lips.
'It's just... it's just that I get excited about people. And sometimes I don't stop to think that they might not be... excited back. You know?'
I took a breath, silent, screaming on the inside. I wanted to tell her that she was wrong. That I adored her, that I was crazy about her, anything to see the sadness drain away from her eyes. But it would be for me, not her. Selfish. She was better off without me. She deserved someone better, someone... honest. Not like me. Not like the masterfully crafted collection of falsehoods and lies that was me.
But what was I supposed to say? Something banal, like it's not you? She deserved a better explanation, at least, even if it would have to be a false one.
I licked my lips and said:
'Listen. It's not that I don't like you. Actually, it's the opposite. I like you too much.'
She looked at me, puzzled.
'What?'
A little bit of honesty to make the lie sound like a truth.
'I think you're amazing. Actually, I think you're the coolest person I know. And ridiculously hot.'
Now she frowned.
'Then why the fuck didn't you do anything?'
Now, time to lie.
'Because you don't know me. You don't know me at all. We met what, a few weeks ago? And that's about as long as my relationships usually last.'
I took her glass and made a sip of beer.
'You see... no, you don't see, I guess. But I'm a... a messed up person. And not in a good way. Everyone looks for certain things in their partners, but I can't... be what people need me to be. And when it becomes apparent, things usually turn bitter. It's only fine for some harmless fun and a quick goodbye. But I like you. I don't want to say goodbye.'
I leaned forward just a little, looking her in the eyes. It's easy to lie while looking someone in the eyes, comes off as sincere. Lean forward to look interested, mirror their body language, look them in the eyes, don't cross your arms, be open.
'I have very few friends. And friends are what I really need right now.'
Basically, I fed her the same thing she told me on one of the first days we knew each other, just using different words. Claire believed in surrounding herself with good people, so I told her that I wanted to have good friends rather than messy relationships, plus a lot of nonsense to make it sound convincing.
Something that would be easy for her to understand and believe in.
It worked. She was silent for a while, coming to terms with what I said. Then the sadness disappeared from her face, at least most of it. She smiled.
'Okay. I think I get it.'
She raised her glass.
'Friends?'
I smiled back at her, and lied.
'Friends.'
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone