Stories from RhyDin & The Rings

I watched their lives derail slowly. Every day I sat on the bottom step of our front porch, picking my cuticles until they bled and watching the house across the street. Keeping up with appearances, indeed. I figure it is only a matter of time until the house and its occupants disappear into the night, or ignite the sky. It’s hard to tell.

Let me hit rewind.

“Devon, Devon...I heard you’re back in town. Is that true?” Not even a foot on the goddamn platform and my phone had already started ringing. I rolled my tongue against the roof of my mouth as I thought through my answer. *No, rumors of my return are greatly exaggerated.Unfortunately, a series of events has brought me back to start.Fuck off.My tongue relaxed and the words fell out of my mouth.

“It’s true.” Succinct. I sat there for another five minutes as Roo hooted and hollered into the phone. While he let out a litany of happiness I put the phone down and unwrapped some shitty, generic candy bar. It read ‘chocolate’ on the side. The candy was old. I could tell by the white tinge of the candy bar. That’s my fault for buying it from the sale bin. But, when you’re broke, you're broke. Speaking of broke-I broke a piece off and popped it into my mouth. It melted, tasted like chocolate. I waited to die and when that didn't happen. I had another piece.

“You done?”, I asked Roo, who sounded like he had just run a half marathon. God, I imagined his round face all red and splotchy as he tried to get his breath.

“Yeah. I am happy you're back.” Was I wrong for not feeling the same? Being back had not been on my itinerary. But, here I was. One hand in my pocket, and the other… fuck Alanis.

“Sure. That's a thing. Can I call you back? I gotta be somewhere.” Liar, liar pants on fire. Were I Pinocchio my nose would be tickling someone in Prague by now. I could hear the disappointment in the static and the transmission before Roo even opened his mouth to speak. Funny, how it carries that way.

“You got it. Good to hear your voice, Devon. Been too long. Let me know where you end up and I’ll stop by.” I muttered something of sure, sure. Bye. then hung up. I didn't have any intention of calling him back today, or tomorrow. Maybe not even this week, or month. I had other reasons for coming back into town and none of them were to do with meeting up with old friends.

I tossed the rest of the chocolate in the trash. It was late. I was tired. And there were miles to go before I slept. So many miles.

The house still smelled the same like stale hotdog water and medicine. I don’t know why. I guess his caretakers hadn't cared enough to clean up. I picked at the peeling wallpaper. Gold flecks and roses. The late seventies and early eighties were something else in the way of of interior decoration. Millions of houses had been plastered with gold foiled wallpaper with floral motifs. It looked fancy. Now, it just looked, well it just looked like gold plated tin that stained skin green.

My skin was green. The light flickered. I wondered if he died peacefully. Probably not. Acute myleloid leukemia. AML. AML. His blood cells turned against him day after day. He smiled day after day. I ran away day after day. I called day after day just to hear my brother’s voice.

You got Samuel Nashan’s voicemail. Leave me a message and I will get back to you when I'm awake.

“Hey, Sam.. I miss you.” I hung up, put the phone down. The table shook as a text came through. I ignored it. Leave me the fuck alone please.

Were we royalty:

Devon, the Coward.

Samuel, the Brave.

My skin is blue. I am a coward. I stared hard at a spot on the wall watching the petals break away. The air grew heavy and my lungs burned. I couldn't breathe. I wasn't ready for this. I wasn't ready to pack him up into boxes with sharpie and a garage sale send off.

I wasn't ready for that good bye.

I pulled in a gulping breath like a fish that had thrown itself out the tank in one last attempt to free itself from the confines of captivity. I was suffocating in here with the hotdog water cologne and the echo of hospice heartbeats. Why did this house smell like hotdogs? Sam hated hotdogs.

I had to leave. So I did. I picked up my phone, and with tide pools of his tears on my shoulders I headed to the diner down the street like the coward I was.