Whiskey and the Grove

Whiskey and the Grove
By CV Welch

"I never saw anything more beautiful than the sunset in her eyes."

         Marcus looked at the words on the page, frustrated with his inability to convey her beauty into words.  Six months to the day.  Had it been that long?  It had taken an hour to write that one sentence and, in a moment of desperation, he threw his pen into his journal and sat back in his chair. It was the texture of the paper and the weight of the pen that inhibited his writing, or so he convinced himself.
         'Let's face it,' he thought, 'This journal will end up like all the others she bought you: Just a couple sentences on the first page and stacked away in a junk box.'
         The thought of this journal rotting away in the back of his attic made his stomach turn. This was, after all, the last thing she had given him before the accident. Her promise still glistened on the inside cover.

         "I'll be back in no time. I won't cry if you don't.
                                                Love,
                                                    Tricia”

         Dr. Mitchell had thought it a good idea if Marcus kept a journal. He saw it as a way for Marcus to confront his guilt. But what do shrinks know? Putting his pain on the page wouldn't do anything for Marcus except remind him in ten years, when he rediscovers the journal, how much he actually hurt. His watch chimed. Two in the morning.
         “Screw work,” he filled his whiskey glass to the brim, took a swig from the decanter, and dropped the mostly empty bottle to the floor. He found it hard for anything to matter and the alcohol certainly didn't help. The more he consumed, the more he was unable to forget. All the liquor did was make the memories flood by faster. He stared at the journal until his glass was empty and stumbled his way to bed.

* * *

         He could still remember the clothes she was wearing just before she left: Blue suit with dark hose and two inch heels. Her perfume still lingered in his nose. Watching her pack her travel bag he tried to make small talk and hide the fact that he was going to miss her terribly. Two weeks really wasn't that long, but it was going to be two weeks without her.
         “You'll be sure and call every night, right?” he asked her, trying to keep his tone even.
         “Every night and every morning, if I can,” she looked up at him and giggled at his expression. His puppy dog eyes always made her laugh. “Look on the bright side, this will give you time to rekindle your friendship with Michael.”
         It wasn't the fact that she was going away that worried Marcus. It was the fact that she was going so far away and was traveling by car, nonstop. Their goodbye ritual was understandably long that day. Many hugs and kisses, conversations starting with “Goodbye.” She didn't want to leave as much as he wanted her to stay. The last kiss still tingled on his lips.
         “I've left you something on the bed. Be sure and open it after I leave. I love you.” He closed the door after her. The air felt stagnant, like it had started rotting as soon as she left. He slowly made his way into the bedroom, replaying the last hour in his head. On the bed sat a thin package wrapped in gold foil and garnished with silver ribbon. He opened it carefully, making sure to appreciate every second. It was a beautiful journal. Italian leather, silk bookmark, trimmed in gold. And on the inside cover, simple words that confirmed their feelings for each other.
         For the rest of the day he laid around the house, keeping the phone close to him. Nine o'clock struck. Then ten o'clock and eleven. She should have called by then. Maybe she had forgotten. The next morning Marcus woke to the phone ringing. He answered it quickly, trying not to sound groggy.
         “Mr. Tinsley?” the other voice said.
         “Speaking,” Marcus sniped, convinced this was just another creditor.
         “Sir. My name is Detective Evans and I'm with the Washington State Troopers,” his voice trailed off from there. A car wreck. They wouldn't tell him much, just that they had done everything they could. The news told him more. Apparently it had been horrific enough to make the national media. Twelve cars totaled, fourteen people dead, three children, and one interview with a witness.
         “I saw it happen, right in front of me,” the man said excitedly over a deep Canadian accent, trying to take the microphone for himself, “The ice was so bad. You could tell from the way these people were driving they weren't from around here. One wrong move and bam! One car started spinning and then another. Next thing you know cars are flipping and bouncing all over the road. I slammed on my brakes just in time. I tried to help all I could. I called the ambulance and as I was on the phone with them I heard the most awful scream in the world. Once I found the lady, it was clear to me she wasn't gonna make it, what with being pinned between a tree and a car. Tell the truth, I don't even know how she was still alive. I tried to help her, but she just kept screaming. I tell ya, when I go, I don't want to go like that.”
         He tried to kill himself a few hours after hearing that. Sleeping pills he found in the medicine cabinet and a bottle of cheap whiskey. He woke up in the hospital three days later with Michael sitting next to him. As Marcus opened his eyes he started screaming. Tears ran down his cheeks and he flailed in his bed, unable to cope with the thought of living. Unable to stop screaming.

* * *

         Marcus woke in a cold sweat. The phone was ringing and he slowly got up to answer it, trying to ignore his throbbing headache.
         “Hey. Time to get up. I've been knocking on your door for ten minutes,” Michael said. Marcus got up, tossed the phone to his side, and opened the front door.
         “I'm not home, go away,” Marcus said in jest.
         “Missed you at work so I thought I'd cut out early and see what was going on,” he looked at Marcus and started laughing. “When was the last time you looked in a mirror? Or took a shower?” Marcus hadn't shaved in a little over a week and his apartment was completely covered in food wrappers and trash. They made their way into the living room and, after clearing places to sit on the couch, they sat down. Michael had brought a brown paper sack with him and he began to empty its contents onto the coffee table, announcing each item as he did so.
         “One bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey, two delectable sub-sandwiches, one's for me, and this morning's paper.” Michael had taken it upon himself to help Marcus deal with his depression. He had gotten better in the six months since the accident but couldn't shake the guilt.
         From the second he had heard the news, the only thing he could think was, 'I didn't get to say goodbye one last time.' For the past month, that thought brought him to the point of apathy with everyday life. He showered when Michael told him to. He ate when Michael brought him food. The only thing he did of his own volition was drink.
         “Man, Suzie from accounting was hitting on me hardcore today. If only I had the balls to talk to her without stuttering,” Michael said with a smirk. He picked up his sandwich and began unwrapping it. “Eat. I got it just how you like it. You know, edible,” he laughed at his own joke.
         Marcus grabbed the bottle of whiskey, unscrewed the cap, and said, “Well here's to hoping you grow a pair,” he took a swig from the bottle, set it back on the table, and reached for his sandwich.
         “She and I had a lot of fun last night though,” Michael said in between bites of his already half eaten sandwich. Had his mouth not been full of food, it would’ve twisted into a smirk.
         “Wait. You've been on a date with her and you still can't have a conversation?” Marcus said bewildered.
          “She didn't know we were on a date. I went to that shop in the Red Light District. What's it called?” he said snapping his fingers, trying to remember the name. “Oh yeah. Heaven on Earth. That place is great.”
         Marcus set down his sandwich and reached for the bottle again. “Heaven on Earth? Never heard of it.”
         “Sure you have. It made the news about a year ago. It's basically a brothel, legal though.” Michael said nonchalantly through swallows and, after noticing Marcus's bewildered stare, continued, “They sit you down and attach a helmet to your head. They can either pipe in one of their own experiences or they can scan your memory and give you an experience with anyone. Not too expensive either.”
         Marcus's interest was peaked. “What happens once you're plugged in?”
         “Whatever you want. You can do anything from fulfilling your fantasies to just staring at someone,” Michael reached for the morning paper. “They usually have an ad in the classifieds,” he said as he flipped through the pages. Once he found what he was looking for he folded the newspaper and set it on the coffee table in front of Marcus. It was a subtle ad with no direct references to the service they actually provided. The place was a twenty four hour sex shop that sold fantasies with limitless possibilities.
         Marcus had trouble remembering the rest of their conversation. While Michael was distracted with the newspaper, Marcus had stolen back the bottle of whiskey which was now one gulp away from being finished. He remembered finishing his sandwich but anything after that was just a hazy blur. After he had passed out later that afternoon, Michael took it upon himself to clean up the apartment a bit. He didn't do an immaculate job, but he did get the wrappers and trash thrown away. Once he was finished he unsuccessfully tried to wake Marcus up, and left the apartment.

* * *

         Marcus dreamed that afternoon of walking through the park. There were no clouds in the perfectly blue sky and the only sound he could hear was the wind blowing past his face. He looked around to discover he was alone, but he had the distinct feeling he had just been in a deep conversation with someone. The path he was walking on disappeared some distance ahead into a grove of trees which seemed to be silently calling out to him. He made his way towards the grove which only seemed to get farther away with each step. Seeing this he began to run faster and faster, never getting close to the grove. Then he saw her. Tricia walked out of the grove, waved at him, and walked back in. Marcus started screaming for her but no sound came from his mouth. He tried harder and harder to get to her, to get her attention, but he couldn't reach her. The path started to break apart and Marcus could no longer run. He stopped and looked towards the grove, hoping to get one more look at her. All he could see was the shattered path and the grove. The ground around the path began to melt away until finally all that was left was white. As he stood on the shattered path, a small light began to emanate from somewhere in the grove and with it a high pitch tone. The light grew until Marcus could no longer look at the grove  and the sound transformed into a buzzing noise that seemed to vibrate every part of his body. He closed his eyes and fell to the ground grabbing his head, trying to scream. Then everything stopped. He could hear himself breathing, and see the path below his feet. He was at the grove now and, excitedly, he ran through the trees trying to find her. From a distance the grove had appeared to be quite thick with many trees and bushes but now that he was walking through it he noticed that it was much smaller. As he realized this he also started to notice how tall he had gotten, reaching almost as high as the trees around him. Looking down at his feet he noticed now that he towered over most everything. He tried to look over the tree tops to find out where the path might be leading him, but the only things he could see were the tops of trees and an alarmingly large tree in the distance ahead of him. He started to run towards the tree and once he reached it he became very frightened. The tree itself was ten times his height and the trunk twisted in a dramatic spiral like clay after it's been wrung. The path seemed to circle around the tree and Marcus began to follow it once more. He seemed to be walking forever and making no progress, as if the girth of the tree had grown without actually growing. Then he heard her voice. Tricia was calling out to him. He cried out her name and, after realizing his voice was back, began to run towards her cries. As he circled around the tree the smell of her perfume got stronger. Finally he came upon her. She was against the tree, being held there by a smoking car. He cried out to her and she looked at him with a smile.
         “Hey baby,” she said in a delirium with her eyes rolling in their sockets. Blood started to pour from her mouth and ears. She started screaming and Marcus's bones seemed to shatter in his skin. He tried to look away from her mangled body but was unable to, and as he stared at the carnage her body began to contort and stretch. Her arms lengthened and as they did so they started to twist with the sound of bones breaking. Her legs followed suit and shortly thereafter, her neck, until finally her limbs and neck resembled the the dramatic spiral of the tree trunk she was pinned against. Marcus called out to her again and she bent her now long neck towards him. Her bones cracked even more as she did this. Although he was some distance away from her, her stretched neck now put them face to face. All was silent now and they just stared at each other. She seemed to have lost all of her human qualities.
         “Help me!” she screamed as blood began to drip from her eyes. As she screamed the world around them seemed to shake. “Help me!” she cried again, this time much louder. Marcus tried to run but her face was always right in front of him. “Help me!” she cried one last time so loud that the entire grove shattered. Marcus woke up screaming with tears streaming down his face.

* * *

         It was dark outside and, after calming himself down, Marcus collected himself from the couch and took a shower. The dream had shocked him into a surreal stupor. Nothing seemed to exist, nothing was tangible. Even the warm water cascading down his shoulders, over his chest, past his crotch, and eventually dripping into the drain below seemed to float along its path, as if time had no purpose in the water's journey. He slowly washed himself, taking care to thoroughly clean every pore and crevice. His mind was made up. He would either find closure or die trying.
         He finished his shower and, after shaving and drying his skin, went to his closet. He flipped through his clothes, trying to find the one Sunday suit that Tricia had liked so much. He looked through all of his drawers and, after realizing it might be missing, began to frantically throw clothes off of their hangers onto the floor below. There it was. Hanging in the very back of the closet, well hidden. It was a dark blue suit, with a white undershirt and a black tie.
         As he put the suit on, memories flooded to him. One in particular always stood out. It was after their second or third date. They had gone to a movie, followed by dinner, and shortly after a walk through the park. As they sat on a park bench that night, Marcus had looked into Tricia's eyes and told her he was in love with her.
         He tightened his tie, grabbed his keys and wallet, and stepped out the door. The cool night air washed over his face as he made his way down the steps and crossed the street to the subway station. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew he'd figure it out before he got off the train. As he waited for the train to arrive, Marcus couldn't help but notice that he had caught the attention of a younger brunette. She was wearing what was probably her best dress and it accented her beauty well. He tried to ignore her, staring at his shoes, but to no avail. Looking up for just one split second, she noticed and waved at him. Blushing, he smiled and waved back. The brunette took this as her cue to come and talk with Marcus. As she approached him though, and through sheer luck, the train arrived. Marcus rushed on board hoping to lose her in the crowd. Then he felt a weight on his jacket. She had grabbed hold of his jacket tail so as not to lose him. Trying not to let the situation become too awkward, he offered her a seat and sat down next to her.
         As the train pulled away heading towards downtown they made their introductions. She wasn't much younger than him and was much prettier than Marcus had originally thought. Marcus didn't really want to talk to anyone, he hadn't even figured out where he was going, but it seemed to be alright with her. She kept talking and Marcus couldn't help but think that two trains had left that station, the one they were riding and the one falling out of her mouth. As she talked at him, he watched the advertisement board that was above their heads. Commercials for gum and jeans flashed across the screen and Marcus began to wonder if she had just asked him a question. He turned his head to look and saw that she was still talking, he had just drowned out her droning. Looking back at the advertisement board he suddenly realized what he was going to do with his night.
         The commercial flashed a red screen with a woman smiling at the passengers. The camera pulled away to show her nearly nude body. “You know you want me,” she said, nearly moaning, “Never has it been so easy to turn on, tune in, and drop out with anyone you desire.” The words, 'Heaven on Earth,' flashed across the screen followed shortly by the words 'Next Stop.' The train was already coming to a stop. Marcus interrupted the girl who had been talking at him and let her know he was disembarking. She looked shocked but frantically went into her pocketbook to pull out a piece of paper with her phone number and name on it. He tried to deny her but, with time running out, he quickly slid it into his pocket, said goodbye, and left the train.
         As he climbed the stairs out of the subway station, he knew right away that he was in the right area. Aside from the neon words, 'Red Light District,' flashing out of every corner, there were many more scantily clad women and men standing around the streets. Under normal circumstances Marcus wouldn't have been caught dead in the Red Light District. But this wasn't any normal circumstance, it was his last chance to find peace. Heaven on Earth was just a block from the subway station and was impossible to miss. It's bright lights and odd architecture demanded attention from even the sinless. He made his way through the heart shaped front doors into the lobby of the digital brothel. At the other end of the lobby was a massive front desk with at least fifteen attendants. Marcus walked up to the counter and was greeted by a very nice blond woman dressed in a tuxedo.
         “How ya doin' hun? Do you have an account with us already?” she said through a thick northern accent.
         “No. I've never been here before,” Marcus said, a little overwhelmed by the bustle of the place.
         “Oh! A freshie huh? Well then, you want to talk to that gentleman over there,” she pointed to the end of the counter where a man in a very large top hat was seated behind a podium. Marcus began to walk away. “Oh and hun,” the woman said holding out a card, “Ask for me,” she fluttered her eyelashes and went back to what she had been doing originally. Marcus looked at the card. It was just a bunch of numbers, like a serial code. He walked to the end of the counter and was immediately noticed by the man in the large top hat.
         “Hallo there freshie! Before you even try to ask questions let me introduce myself! I am the Ring Leader. I am your gateway to pleasure. Anything you want, I can give. So long as you've got the green to give. That said, what's your fuck?” The showmanship of the Ring Leader was almost as overwhelming as the bustle of the people behind Marcus.
         “I'm not here for that,” said Marcus, “I just want a date. No sex,” the Ring Leader looked at Marcus, almost analytically, and Marcus began to feel uncomfortable.
         “Right then. Will you be wanting one of my delectable beauties or one of my strong and handsome men?” he held up a catalog containing profiles on each of the 'models' they offered.
         “Neither. I was told that you can scan my memory?” Marcus was becoming more uncomfortable and more unsure of himself by the minute.
         “Ah. So you wanna spend the night with the bosses wife is it? Or is it a lost love? Either way, Jimmy here will be able to help you out!” He snapped his fingers, “Jimmy!” He called to what looked like a bell-hop, “Will you help this gentleman? Booth 90507 if you please.” The bell-hop agreed and beckoned for Marcus to follow him.
         As they made their way through the lobby Marcus began to get nervous. They came to an elevator and, through sweat and stutters, he asked, “Where are we going now?”
         “Straight up,” said the bell-hop, “We keep our memory scanners on the top floors.”
         The elevator began to rise. On the walls were image screens that flashed images of testimonials and models with their profiles. Marcus idly tried to make conversation as the elevator rose higher in the air, but all he could think about was his growing nervousness. They reached the top floor and stepped out of the elevator. The bell-hop led the way down the hall and through a door way which opened up into a severely red room. Marcus looked around, trying to decide if the bed in the center of the room resembled either the most comfortable bed he'd ever seen or an execution table.
         “Alright, if you'll lie down,” the bell-hop began, “I'll strap the helmet to your head and we'll find the person you're looking for.”
         Marcus laid down on the bed and the bell-hop brought the helmet over. It was a slim helmet that could have passed for a bicycle helmet had it not had a thick cable running from the top into a panel on the wall. He strapped it to Marcus's head with two Velcro straps and returned to the panel.
         “I'll turn on the screen and if you'll just think about who it is you want, we can confirm it,” the bell-hop said, his back turned to Marcus. Marcus thought about Tricia. About her long hair and her beautiful body. He thought about her perfume and how it still lingered in his nostrils. Most of all though, he thought about her laughing and him making her laugh.
         “Is this her?” the bell-hop asked, showing Marcus the image of Tricia.
         “Y-y-yes,” he had to choke back the tears.
         “Alright. Now that we've confirmed I'll just be needing one more thing from you. If you could just let me have your cash card for the duration of the experience.”
         Marcus pulled out his wallet and handed the bell-hop his cash card. The bell-hop checked the connections one last time, activated the machine, and left the room.

* * *

         Marcus immediately found himself sitting on a blanket in a park. A wonderful picnic was spread out in front of him. Had he dreamed everything? He looked around, unable to see anyone. Standing up, he heard laughter coming from behind a tree. As he made his way towards the tree the laughter stopped.
         “Boo!” Tricia came from behind the tree, “Did you think you’d lost me?”
         “For a second there, yeah,” said Marcus. They made their way back to the blanket and, after sitting down, began to eat.
         “I'm sorry, by the way,” she said after moments of silence. Marcus had been staring at her, unable to believe that she was sitting right here and that he could touch her, “For leaving you like that. I should have called in sick.”
         “It's ok. You couldn't have known it was going to happen,” Marcus said after swallowing a bite of sandwich. “I'm just happy I get to see you one last time.”
         “Me too. I love you Marcus,” she said in near tears.
         “I love you too,” he reached out and grabbed her hand. They both began to sob and fell into each other’s arms. Stumbling at first, their lips finally found one another and they shared a kiss that shook Marcus's entire being. When they pulled away, Tricia jerked her head back, “What's wrong?” he asked.
         “Nothing, it's just a nose bleed,” she said and he noticed the blood that was trickling down his cheek. He grabbed a napkin that had been sitting under his sandwich and handed it to her. She placed it under her nose and then smiled at him, “You’re so sweet.”
         As she smiled at him, Marcus saw the napkin he had given had become soaked with blood. “Oh my god. We have to go,” he stood up, trying to remember where he and the closest hospital was. He reached for her hand and, as he did so, jerked his hand away. Her arms had begun to twist into long elegant spirals and blood had now started pouring from her mouth and ears. She started screaming and Marcus fell to his knees in shock, trying to close his eyes and forget the nightmare he had found himself in. A cracking noise like wood splintering echoed through the park and he opened his eyes to see what was happening. Her neck was twisted and elongated, and her face seemed to permanently express inconceivable pain. He tore his eyes away from the awful sight of his beloved being tormented only to find himself back in the grove of his nightmares. The trees around them had shrunk and Tricia’s twisted body now extended into the ground. Her body twisted and elongated, rising into the air, towering over Marcus. Once she had finished her grotesque transformation, she lowered her long neck to center her torn face with Marcus’s. Up till now, Marcus had been speechless and unable to determine whether he was stuck in another nightmare or completely psychotic. He began to scream out in terror and tried to run away from her but, again, was unable to escape her face. He couldn’t get away and couldn’t cope with the idea of his beloved dying over and over again. He turned and ran towards Tricia. He ran faster and faster and, as he did so, a light began to emanate from her massive trunk. The closer he got to her, the brighter the light became, until it filled the landscape around them with an ominous, luminescent glow. He finally reached his beloved's trunk and the light took hold of everything. Marcus, scared though he was, wanted nothing more than to be as close as he could to Tricia. The light made that possible. And as peace finally settled in his heart, Marcus slipped into an unconscious dream, never to wake up.

* * *

         As Marcus's body twitched and convulsed, the bell-hop who had been observing him tried desperately to shut down the machine. Frustrated with the lack of response from the machine, the bell-hop left the room to go find help. On his way out he stopped only long enough to see Marcus's body give in to death. He started to sprint down the hall but quickly stopped when he noticed that the customer in the next room was convulsing and dying as well. The same was true for the next room, and the next. The entire top floor of the brothel was a chain of death. Quickly, the bell-hop tried to call down to the Ring Leader from the phone at the end of the hall.
         “Shut down power to the circuit board!” he screamed into the receiver. The lights shut off and emergency lights flickered on. Upon inspection of all of the rooms, the bell-hop found everyone who had been plugged in to the computers was dead. He returned to the phone, “Everyone who was plugged in on the top floor is dead!”
         The Ring Leader stammered for a moment as he gathered himself to speak. He had already received calls from the other floors. “They're all dead.”