It snowed. It snowed and not just a little bit. Over night, a six inch blanket settled down in my neighborhood. Unfortunately, the adult me was nuts.
Sasifraz had been in a raucous mood. Since I had formally broken up with Leslie, the tension in the house had crept up until it was at a full boil. Leslie harangued me about my misplaced priorities—implying that to break-up with Leslie was to reject Adrian as well.
Intellectually I knew that Leslie was trying to get me back for rejecting her. Still, I was stung. With the pain came Sasifraz marching out two-by-two with his host of one liners.
“You are impossible. You blew it. If Leslie takes Adrian away from you, you are worthless. All your fighting me is for nothing. You are worthless. Death is the best you can do. Why keep fighting the same old war? Blood will surely make it bearable.”
I couldn’t always come up with the right answers to his questions. But, by now, I knew how to ask for help.
On the night it began to snow, Leslie gave me a particularly damning demonstration of her anger. Feeling emotionally abused, I could feel the rise of Sasifrazian rage. I left and rounded the corner to our neighbor, Marsa.
“I’m sorry to bother you. I really hurt. I need a safe place to cry and figure out what to do. Can you sit with me?”
“Sure, but I don’t know how to help.”
“Just sit with me and listen. I’ll do the talking.”
I cranked out my story of the evening overcome with tears and pain. But still Sasifraz pursued me.
While I was there, BJ called. I brought her up-to-date. I got off the phone. Sasifraz was still on it. I had broken down and bought razor blades earlier in the day. Between Sasifraz and my own pain, the razor blades were burning a hole in my pocket.
At my wits end, I called Rahne. I felt the critical mass approaching and knew that I could not last the night. My ability to hold off the onslaught was dimming. Further, the future looked filled with more pain than I had already broached.
* * * * * * *
(Don’t you think you are rattling on here? I AM NOT RATTLING ON. THIS IS IMPORTANT. Well, for god’s sake, get to the point. HAVEN’T YOU ANY PATIENCE FOR THE FINE ART OF PROSE, STYLE, OR TECHNIQUE? None whatsoever.)
* * * * * * *
Rahne was staying with her friend, Rose. I didn’t want to intrude. But, the needs of the moment overcame me. I blurted out my dilemna, biting back my tears asking if Rahne had ideas.
Rahne’s ideas seemed to run across the lines of saying exactly the right words that I needed to hear. “I’d be glad to help you stay safe. You can come over here. You can sleep on the couch. I’ll stay with you as long as you need me to. I’ll come pick you up, or Marsa could probably drive you over.”
Gratefully, I thanked Rahne. The first part of the act of self-preservation was done.
* * * * * * *
The snow came down all night, so I had no work the next day. It was a long night. Rahne greeted me with open arms and held me while I shook.
I took a Xanax or two—something my doctor had given me to take in a pinch when things felt out of control. I couldn’t give Rahne the razor blades that were in my pocket. I didn’t have the strength to take life on faith alone.
I don’t remember any more if Sasifraz came that night. Mostly, Rahne and I waited out the drugs until finally I felt drowsy enough to sleep.
The next morning, no one had work. Six inches of snow had fallen. Within an hour of waking up, Sasifraz was back harassing me. It didn’t take long for him to take over and spread his cheer to Rahne and her friend, Rose.
Sasifraz, of course, had my razor blades out and was disinclined to put them away or offer them in a trade. Rahne engaged Sasifraz lightly and easily in conversation. By now, the two of them had a working relationship complete with bantering and sarcasm.
* * * * * * *
(AH, FUCK. NOW, I HAVE TO RECREATE THE CONVERSATION. What’s so tough about that? WHO THE HELL REMEMBERS? IT’S LIKE A DREAM...)
* * * * * * *
“So, Sasifraz, what’s bothering you?” Rahne prompted.
“Bothering me,” he responded with his customary mock humility. “Nothing. I just have a job to do.”
“And, what is your job?”
“I’m in charge of aiding and abetting self-destructive tendencies.” He smirked.
“Remember, we talked about you having a new job?”
“I don’t think so. I’m really good at my present job.”
“I know. I know. But, how about a new job?”
“I don’t think so. My specialty is blood and that’s not easily replaced.” With that announcement, Sasifraz jumped off the bed and said he had to go.
Silently, Rose stepped in front of the door. Rahne moved nearer to Sasifraz and took his arm.
“What’s this?” Sasifraz gestured at Rahne’s hand.
“I won’t hold you if you get back on the bed.”
“Okay.” Sasifraz edged one blade part way out of the box in his hand.
“Sasifraz, you have to keep the razor blades in the box.”
“I like them out better.”
“Sasifraz! You have to keep them in the box. It’s not okay with me for them to be out. Put it back in the box.”
“Don’t you think it’s beautiful? Don’t you think it’s a work of art? Very fine art work?”
“I can’t quite see that. Put it back in the box, and we can talk about it. Put it back in there!” Rahne urged and pointed her finger at the box. “I’ll talk to you, but you have to keep them in the box.”
Sasifraz edged the blade back in with his thumb. “Really, I don’t know how you can resist them. They are a great killing machine—light and easily transported. I don’t know why everybody doesn’t use them. Slice.” He made a gesture across his arm relishing the feeling.
“Sasifraz, what makes you want to kill?”
“It’s my job.”
“Yah, I know. But, how did you get that job?”
“The Dead Man taught me everything he knows.”
“What did he teach you?”
“He taught me how to kill. I’m good at it. In fact, I’ve killed four kids.”
“What kids?”
“I don’t know. They’re dead now.”
“Who were they?”
“I can tell you their names. Do you want to know?”
“Sure.”
Sasifraz counts off on his fingers. “One was Mandy. One was Sarah. One was Jesse or James. I’m not sure. Maybe Jesse James.” He looked up with one eyebrow arched impressed at his own joke. “The last one was Stephen.”
“How old were these kids?”
“Three, five, seven, and nine, respectively. And, I killed them and that proves how good I am at my job.”
* * * * * * *
From time to time that morning, Sasifraz would leave. I would lay gasping on the bed as if for air—racked by shakes convulsing my stomach.
I would whisper a loud, “hi” to Rahne and that would signal a recess. Rahne and I made drug decisions and tried to negotiate what I had to do next to try to get on top of the situation.
It was some time into early afternoon before I was able to give Rahne the razor blades in exchange for a piece of Rahne’s jewelry—a little pinky ring to act as an anchor for me to hold onto. But, it was late afternoon that day before an accumulation of drugs and less of Sasifraz’s visits enabled me to feel safe enough to go home.
Of course, the big issue of the day was who the hell those kids were. Rahne asked but I didn’t know. I recited their names and ages over and over to myself wondering. “Mandy, Sarah, Jesse (James?), and Stephen. Three, five, seven, and nine.” I had never heard of them before, and I didn’t know how they were related to me. Though, somehow I knew that they were very important. It seemed like a trivial Sasifrazian boast, but I knew I would have to follow the story to the end.
I met the Gentle Wind at home that evening and went to bed early to sleep the deep sleep of the drugged and exhausted.
* * * * * * *
It was a month later when Sasifraz made the startling announcement that he was willing to consider changing his job. Despite the fact that I already considered myself to have been on an adventure, things changed so that it felt like the adventure really began in earnest.
(HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE? How the hell should I know? MORE TO COME. THERE’S ALWAYS MORE TO COME.)