Catalyst
That day is burned into my mind. All the consequences of my actions, this life I have lived, all traced back to that fateful day. Before that point, I still had some free will, some choice in the matter. I now know I was guided toward certain outcomes, but that day was when, for me, the choice was made.
The worst part? I can’t say for certain I would make a different choice now. Even knowing everything that has happened. I would most likely do the same thing, make the same decisions. That’s the effect she had on me.
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The day started like any other. I awoke feeling as I always did: a sudden rush of consciousness and an acute awareness of my surroundings, rather than a groggy arousing. I could hear a low sound coming through the walls, distinct from the constant hissing and cracking of the old college townhouse. The sound of muffled conversation, but it came through as a low-rumble, with intermittent peaks, possibly laughter. The commotion was coming from Tom’s room. Guess he was awake too.
Time to get up. I wondered who he had with him and if I should wait for them to leave as a courtesy. I decided to beat them to the kitchen and start breakfast instead.
The bacon sizzled in the pan; some of the grease went to help the eggs out. Bagels popped from the toaster. The smells drifted through the house, and it didn’t take long before they wandered down the hall. But they parted at the halfway point, and she darted off to the bathroom, dressed in only a towel, from the glimpse I got.
“Fun night?” I inquired.
It had better have been. Considering the sounds I tried to sleep through last night.
“Yeah.” He smiled sheepishly, managing some appearance of innocence despite the frequency of this type of occurrence.
“Making anything good?” he asked.
“Everything I make is good.” I didn’t bother turning; the eggs held my attention. Always too much heat, but they did cook faster. Impatience was the enemy of good food.
“Except your strange obsession with lentils,” he replied.
“They have tons of protein and are the cheapest thing at the store. But we’re out,” I answered defensively.
“Again?”
“Yeah, I’ll get some more later today,” I said, trying to suppress my guilt.
Tom had basically been sponsoring my insane eating habits. We were both lucky I was eating less now, though he never complained about how much I was costing him.
“About tonight,” he said, “I was thinking we should go out. The guys want to go to a club downtown.” Tom plopped onto the couch and starting flipping through the channels on TV.
I pretended not to hear him while I continued cooking, a futile effort on my part. We both knew I had. But it would get my point across, I really wasn’t in the mood to go out tonight, especially not to some random club. He knew I was still feeling down about the whole Holly situation.
I heard the shower cut-off from the bathroom, and a blow-drier started up. Tom’s “friends” often left things over for convenience sake. Seemed they didn’t mind sharing. He’d built quite the collection. I’d make fun of him for it, but each leftover item was simply a representative of some other girl he’d slept with. My “trophy case” was rather bare in comparison. Actually, to be truthful, it was empty.
I comforted myself by pretending it was because I had higher standards, and just wasn’t looking for that type of relationship. Truth be told, it was because before this latest turn of events, I hadn’t the self-confidence to try to close with anyone. Let alone know what to do afterward. I could do some small talk, but the rest was just a whole different ballgame. One I had only witnessed from afar and never taken part in. Which only served to make the idea of a night out at a club even less appealing.
Tom was oblivious to my silent musings, entirely absorbed by whatever was on TV. I knew what type of person he was, though. If he had plans, and he wanted you to take part in them, you did. Simple as that. No one told him no.
One way or another, I would find myself out on that dance floor. Oh well. It could be fun… or more likely, not terrible. It would at least fulfill the Tom-imposed social outing quota for the month. I still owed him for the last Mortal Kombat fight.
I finished cooking, turned off the burners, and headed to the living room with a plate heaped high with carbs and proteins.
“Where’s mine?” Tom glanced over as I joined him on the couch.
I grunted and nodded toward the kitchen, mouth already full.
He tossed the remote at me on his way, not quite at my head.
“Didn’t leave much,” he called through the door.
“I’m a growing boy,” I shouted back.
“That you might be, but men need to eat too,” he responded on his way back to the couch.
He barely ducked the remote.
“Anyway,” he continued unfazed, “we’re going out this new club that just opened, Studio Lounge. It’s supposed to be pretty awesome. What are your plans today?”
“Thinking about picking up an extra shift at work.” I had no such plan.
“Perfect. I can pick you up after work. What time do you get off?” he asked.
“Never,” I replied sullenly.
“Ha. Nine o’clock sound good?”
“Fine. Whatever works best for you,” I muttered.
I gathered up the dishes and started cleaning. Tom’s guest called for him from the bedroom and he scurried off to join her. I was almost finished cleaning by the time they reemerged from his room.
“We’re heading out, I’ll see you tonight.” Tom poked his head around the corner of the kitchen.
“Breakfast and the dishes? Remind me to pick you up something nice, you earned it,” he said with a wink.
He ducked back around the corner as the spoon I’d been rinsing embedded itself in the wall where his head had been. I heard him laughing to himself on the way out the door.
I retrieved the protruding object and examined the small hole in the drywall. I hadn’t meant to throw it quite that hard. I added spackle to my mental shopping list, which usually only consisted of food. I finished cleaning the dishes and spent the rest of the morning playing video games, perfectly content even though I’d given up on the idea of going pro.
I eventually called down to the gym to see if I could pick up an extra shift. With my diet, I could use the money.
Emily answered. She sounded cheery as ever as she let me know it had been a slow day, and that no, they didn’t need any extra help. Buuuttt I could take Sarah’s shift for her—they had plans for this afternoon and evening. Oh and by the way, what was Tom up to? Oh, busy tonight? Too bad. Did I know where he planned to be? No? Well that’s okay. At least I would be able to help Sarah get out of her shift so the people with plans could be free.
I somehow ended up thanking her for taking her friend’s shift, just so I could extract myself from the conversation. She had a way of being able to talk forever with anyone regardless of the subject—anything to distract her from actually working.
I tossed the now-silent phone down on the couch and contemplated how such a small device, with its own off button, had the power to hold people hostage.
I killed the rest of my free time killing zombies, and was feeling more or less like a zombie myself by the time I headed down to the gym.
Emily nearly ran into me as she was bounding out the door, but she stopped short as she actually saw me. I guessed it was the first time we had run into each other since, well, you know. She actually took a few seconds to look me up and down.
“Are you sure you and Tom are busy tonight?” she asked.
I nodded in response.
“Too bad.” She put on a pouty face and then she was out the door.
Were other people starting to notice the changes I’d been experiencing? My body didn’t look too different to me, at least not in my normal choice of baggier clothes. I shook my head and moved on to clock in.
A couple of guys were working their way through some sets in the otherwise empty free-weight area. A lone girl was using the stair-master. Emily had been right; it was a slow day. I plugged in my headphones and zoned out. Normally I would try to get my own routine in, but there was little point in that now. I sat behind the desk and checked the IDs of the occasional visitors looking for a weekend workout.
My shift continued uneventfully until my evening relief showed up. I texted Tom to see if I could catch a ride home instead of walking. It turned out he wasn’t too far and was already out himself, so he picked me up on his way back home. Once there, I showered quickly and changed. Jeans and a button-up with a light jacket more for style than warmth. I tried messing up my hair a little but decided I couldn’t pull the look off, and quickly smoothed it back down. A quick glance at the many products on the counter told me I was too far out of my element to try something that drastic now.
I was nervous despite my new self. This was the first social event since the party before my procedure. But a house party was one thing, a club something else entirely. I knew how these nights usually went. I always ended up standing around awkwardly while everyone else danced, which inevitably meant I’d end up at the bar, buying overpriced drinks and trying not to get caught with my fake ID. There wasn’t even the diversion of conversation with the other people dragged there by their more adventurous friends, what with the volume of the music.
I sighed.
“Ready?” Tom banged on the bathroom door.
“Ready.” As I’d ever be.
This particular club was downtown in the nearby city, almost an hour drive away. One of Tom’s friends came to pick us up in his truck. We were piled in three deep front and back. Tom was shotgun of course; I had jumped in behind him. A quick glance around told me I knew everyone in the truck in passing only. They were all Tom’s friends. I recalled a few from the last party but wasn’t sure where I’d seen the rest.
They were passing around a bottle of Jack. I participated in that far more liberally than I did the conversation. They played loud music and shouted about how awesome the night was going to be. But it’s hard to keep that energy going for an entire hour drive through Midwest America.
The three in front, including Tom, were on the football team, as well as the one next to me in back. The other guy behind the driver played basketball. That explained the lack of shoulder room. The guy next to me was Brayden. He was especially excited about tonight, because he was a freshman on the team. This was his first big outing with the guys.
Once he found out I didn’t play any sports, he quickly turned his attention to the rest of the truck’s occupants, which had the effect of cutting me off from everyone else due to his large stature. I was ok with that. I tuned out most of their conversation and tried to think of clever ways to occupy myself at a club that didn’t involve spastic body movements. Mostly I just took very large chugs from the handle of Jack whenever it reached me, which was pretty often. The driver wasn’t drinking and Tom was making sure the bottle made its way to me more frequently than was fair. It seemed he was determined to make sure I had a good time, or at least wouldn’t remember if I didn’t. I think I drank over half the bottle by the time we arrived. Maybe the bouncer wouldn’t let me in.
The truck came to a lurching halt on a curb downtown. This particular downtown area looked like it had seen better days. Other than the club, there were only a few bars and not much else. I guessed this was a “hole-in-the-wall” type place, except it looked like everyone already knew about this particular hole. There was a line outside a nondescript steel door halfway down the street.
Everyone else climbed out of the truck in an ungainly manor. It was hard to tell if it was their large stature and sitting for an hour or the alcohol consumption that had the greater effect. They made their way boisterously across the street while I stood in front of my open door. I briefly wondered if they’d even be let in, but the bouncer dispelled that notion quickly. He took their money, stamped their hands, and they were on their way.
Deep breath. I took a last, long swig until the bottle was empty. I tossed it onto the floor of the truck and followed them.
The bouncer barely gave me a second look as I approached. He was a hulk of a man. Long blonde hair swept behind him and tattoos colored his arms. I imagined he was from some biker gang and this was his day job. Or night job, rather. I spared a glance at the long line of people to my right, all waiting to get in. No one else from my group had to wait in line. I turned to make my way to the end when Tom came back out the front.
“There you are!” he shouted as he grabbed my arm and steered my back toward the club entrance.
“Don’t worry, Kevin, he’s with me.” Tom nodded to the bouncer as we made our way past.
The bouncer gave a grunt of acknowledgment.
“You know him?” I asked.
“I know everyone,” he answered.
Of course he did.
We shouldered our way through the throng of people and into the club. Despite being above ground level, the atmosphere was that of an underground basement. Large concrete support structures stood on a bare concrete floor. Speakers were bolted everywhere, with wires running up and down the support columns. Lights and more speakers occupied every spare space of the industrial ceiling. Giant subwoofers stood in front of a small stage where a DJ was running the show. The lights were flashing and spinning across the exuberant crowd.
I realized Tom had disappeared into the crowd. I looked around for him briefly but quickly gave up. There was a bar. But the bartender was much more scrupulous than the bouncer had been. He was checking IDs thoroughly under a black light. I knew there was no way mine would stand up to that kind of inspection. Guess that option was out.
I pushed onward through the mass of moving bodies toward the center stage. I knew I had probably drank too much too quickly. Even my increased metabolism had trouble keeping up. I could feel the bass as if it was pulsing through my very bones. The people all pushed around me. The heat of their bodies combined with the heat of the alcohol inside me. The music boomed around us. The lights danced and flashed across everyone, everything felt surreal.
I could see how people enjoyed this. If it was their type of thing.
One giant mob all moving in rhythm to the music. Except me. I was apart from it. Not a part of it. Disjointed. Disconnected. But I could see it. Everyone dancing together in a giant thrum of energy.
Then a tap on the shoulder. I turned, and there she was.
Holly.
Like something from a movie. Or a dream I never wanted to wake up from.
She laughed and took my hand, pulling me through the crowd. We started dancing. I didn’t even know how to dance, but it was like I could see her foreshadowing every move. Like she was showing me the way. I moved with her, in perfect harmony.