Day 52
Day Fifty-Two
Instead he scrolled hours and hours of Instagram reels; when he ran through all the videos posted by the Dairy Queen woman, his feed populated with chiropractic back-cracking videos featuring startling sounds (each one more satisfying than the last, as if he were wringing Norman’s neck) and successful contestants on Family Feud, a show he’d only watched as a child with flat ginger ale and saltines when he was sick.
For a time, he played along, guessing the top answers on the board, but to what end?
There was no bigger feud than the one in his family, one-sided though it may be.
The house made creaks and sounds that he didn’t remember, and the light refracted differently through the windows as the season began to change, casting all kinds of new colors and shadows; it began to feel alive.
He felt paranoid all the time, but it may have been the pot, something he was smoking too much of.
When the house felt like it was closing in on him, he would stand in the driveway and look at the sky, which he was doing now.
“Evening.” Jesse’s neighbor, Randall, had ambled up the driveway; he waited until he was standing right next to Jesse to speak. “You aware there’s been a man parked outside your house?”
Randall Moss was stout, with a penchant for short sleeves that cut off at the elbows, making him resemble a bowling ball, rounder than he actually was, and his military haircut and thick, black-framed glasses completed a look that Jesse could best describe as Apollo launch commander, or Oklahoma shop teacher in the midst of demonstrating the lathe.
Randall was someone Jesse tried to avoid; not only did he inspire conversations any reasonable person would chew their own leg off to extricate themself from, but he was soaked in the kind of cheap drugstore aftershave that athletes like Pete Rose used to advertise in full-page magazine ads while wearing tighty-whities.
Jesse had just spotted a single nighthawk, the first he had seen in weeks, and he was worried Randall would spook it.
“A man?” Jesse tore his gaze from the sky long enough to look beyond Randall’s shoulder to see if this man was still there.
“Not now, but earlier.”
Jesse shook his head. It was just like Randall to get him worked up about nothing.
“Been there for several days. Watching you, I think.”
Jesse tensed. “Maybe he’s watching you.” It seemed far more likely someone would be surveilling Randall. He seemed much more like the type of person with secrets to crack.
“Nope, nope. Definitely you.”
“Okay, now you’re creeping me out.”
“American car, I think. Silver. Dent on the rear passenger side.”
“American, you think?” It was unlike Randall not to notice every detail, particularly about an out-of-place vehicle.
“American, a 2010 Chevy Impala with the LTZ trim package and the optional added spoiler. You’re telling me you haven’t noticed him?”
Except for the few times he deliberately left the house, Jesse’s comings and goings were not what they used to be and were far from interesting.
As paranoid as he’d been of late, he didn’t see how he made much of a subject.
Someone expressing an interest could almost be seen as welcome.
Maybe this was the opportunity to make a new friend.
Of course, that was as deluded as many of his recent thoughts; loneliness had a strange way of warping common sense. “Should I be worried?”
Randall blew air through his lips. “Odd to see him parked here three days in a row. If I see him again, I’ll tell him to move it along.”
“You do that,” Jesse said, more encouraging than dismissive.
He made a mental note to double-check the locks on all the doors and windows tonight before bed.
“Is that what you came to tell me, Randall? That a man has been watching the house?” He bit his lip, thinking he had sounded unnecessarily rude; he was out of practice when it came to casual chitchat.
“No, I came with an invitation. Tomorrow night is going to be one of the best nights to see the Milky Way. I’m heading to the Monument to photograph it. Any interest? Thought you might enjoy tagging along.”
Jesse was startled by this unexpected turn of events. “Well, Norman’s traveling.”
“I figured,” came the reply, and Jesse had to wonder who had been watching whom. Randall held up his hands in his best Say no more gesture. Then Jesse surprised himself.
“You know what? The Milky Way is something I would like to see.” Plus, he was curious if it would give him any perspective on where Norman might be in it.
“Okay, then,” Randall said, clapping a few times in excitement, and Jesse hoped he wasn’t being lured to his death. “I’ll pick you up around nine.”
Jesse nodded and returned his attention to the sky.
Randall ambled back down the drive before turning and offering a parting remark over his shoulder. “You’re looking in the wrong direction, you know.”
Jesse did not take kindly to his observation—how the hell did Randall know what he was looking at?
Or for. “As a libertarian, you of all people should know we are free to look wherever we want.” Randall had his own feelings about exactly how free people were in a country run by the billionaire class, and Jesse had certainly heard an earful about it.
But Randall didn’t quibble; despite Jesse and Norman’s rather fancy house (compared to his own Airstream, at least), neither of them had the kind of wealth that perturbed him.
“Think about it,” Randall chuckled. And then one last time. “You sure you don’t know this guy in the car? Silver. In need of a good detailing.”
“Oh, the silver Impala in need of detailing! Yes, we’re having an affair.” Jesse hoped Randall had a good meter for sarcasm.
Randall waved him off. “I’ll get a plate number next time.”
Randall drove like the devil, his car seat shoved so far forward he could steer with his knees, leaving his hands free to clean his glasses on his shirt, gesticulate during conversation, and open a pack of gum.
It took them little more than fifteen minutes to get to the entrance of Joshua Tree National Park, something that should have taken closer to twenty-five.
“Jesus Christ,” Jesse said when they blew through yet another stop sign. He glared at Randall, who paid him no mind.
“No traffic this time of night.” And that was true.
They’d only seen two other cars on the road since they left.
Still, Jesse thought, and he looked back at the camera equipment in the bed of Randall’s Ford pickup.
A tarp covered most of it; Jesse hoped it was indeed a tripod and not a shovel.
“Besides. We’ve got a ways to go and need to make good time. ”
Now Jesse worried he really was being kidnapped, as seemingly the only limit on their time was the sun coming up, unless Randall needed to be somewhere to create some sort of alibi. “You just missed the park entrance. Turn around.”
Instead of slowing down, Randall sped up. “The western entrance.”
“Why, where are we going?”
“The eastern one.” Randall wiped his mouth with the back of his hand like he was salivating with anticipation. “It’s the last pool of natural darkness.”
“Anywhere?” Jesse asked, alarmed. We really were ruining the planet.
“No, of course not. In Southern California.”
Jesse burst out laughing. The Last Pool of Natural Darkness. It would make an apt name for his autobiography.
“What?” Randall asked. He turned to Jesse and stared.
“Nothing,” Jesse replied, motioning for Randall to keep his eyes on the road; who knew what might come bolting out of the dark. “I’m excited, is all.”
They sped forward into the night.
After two hours, Randall pulled his truck to the side just before midnight, seemingly satisfied that they’d made it deep enough into the park, and sat wordlessly, his hand on the keys, frozen in thought.
“You okay?” Jesse asked. It was the kind of daze Jesse found himself in often of late. Randall chewed his lip as he turned off the engine; things fell eerily still. When he killed the headlights, things fell perfectly dark.
“Yeah, you?”
Jesse thought best how to answer. “Did you see those Missing signs posted at the park entrance?” He’d just caught a glimpse of them in Randall’s high beams.
“People go missing all the time in the desert. Hikers get lost. People don’t bring enough water for the heat. Poor saps. You hear other things, too.”
Jesse felt goose bumps. “Like what?”
“Maybe it’s best not to discuss it in the dark.” Randall fluttered his fingers all spooky-like and then exited the truck.
Jesse followed suit, holding on to the truck’s open door, terrified that if he let go he would lose his last tether to a world blessed with light and the darkness would consume him whole.
It’s hard to understand just how dark darkness can be, so used to civilization we are.
With his free hand, Jesse rubbed his eyes and slowly—ever so slowly—a new world revealed itself.
He was blind, and then suddenly he could see.
Randall appeared beside him, but Jesse didn’t even jump. Instead, he just whispered, “Incredible.”
“You don’t have to whisper. No one to hear us for miles.” Randall nodded toward the truck’s bed, and Jesse followed him to collect the equipment, aware as his fingers let go of the door.