gray ghost (the dead trilogy)

the monolith

Even though I was willing to take the bus up there, Jon offered to tag along with me.
"We're musicians," he explained to me, "—and moreover, we're musicians in a world that feels to be turning against us. We have to stand together."
Indeed, Chino and Stephen were these two heavier young men who seemed to glide through the barren darkness of Northern California. The setting sun kissed their dark heads: Chino wore a white shower cap by the time Jon and I showed up to their place together and it made his already round face appear even rounder than before; I thought he was Asian at first when he emerged from the front of the house and then retreated back inside; at least all of that was according to Jon.
The scraggly trees that surrounded their garage rose up to the afternoon blue sky before us: fallen red and orange leaves were strewn about the grass underneath it all; every time a slight gust of wind rose up before us, it sent a chill down my spine. Dry and cold, dry and cold as the feeling in my chest.
"Should've brought a jacket," Jon said to me once we reached the sidewalk.
"I didn't think it'd be this cold, though," I confessed.
Stephen took a joint out from between his lips and a light plume of smoke billowed out into the amber sunlight. The rank smell of marijuana caught my attention, such that it made me recoil a bit.
"You sure you wanna be smokin' that?" Jon asked him once we reached the front step.
"There's no cops around, though," Stephen pointed out. "Plus I rolled it to make it look like a cigarette."
"He means the other thing," I corrected him as another lick of breeze came up over us.
"Oh, the Diablo winds," Stephen filled in. "They're not supposed to fire up until later tonight when the sun goes down. At least they're not like they are down south, the Santa Anas."
It felt like a million years since I last heard the phrase "Santa Ana winds".
He stuck the joint back into his lips and he adjusted the lapels of his black hoodie. I recognized the pointed letters of the Testament logo on his chest, and I grinned at the sight of it.
"You're a fan of Testament?" I asked him.
"Chuck is my first cousin," he replied with a grin on his face. I took a second look at him and I noticed he had those smooth, slightly sunken brown eyes, indicative of the Native American blood that ran through him.
"It's a small world," I told him.
"It's definitely a small world." And with nothing more, he flashed me a wink.
"Where'd Chi go, anyways?" Jon asked him.
"Went to take the shower cap off—at least that's what he said to me."
"Okay—" Jon stepped past us and through the front door of the house. Stephen then turned to me.
"Kristina, right?"
"Yeah."
"Jon told me about you. Kinda interested in your recordings now."
"I brought a few along with me. And I'll perform something for you guys if you'd like."
Chino then surfaced from the front door right behind him. Some blond highlights started to come forth upon the tips of his otherwise black hair.
"Little performance for us?" he asked me as part of his greeting to me.
I shrugged my shoulders and I slid my guitar case right off of my back; he kept his attention fixed on me for a full minute. Those big eyes so deep and calm that it made me stand still for a second. A different shade and yet I thought of both Scott and Alex: like the ghost of my past loves who had manifested right there before me. No yarmulkes or menorahs, but there was something more there.
"Maybe," I replied in a soft voice. "If you boys ask nicely."
"C'mon, you're a student of Satriani," Stephen insisted as he snubbed out the remainder of the joint on the concrete doorstep.
"She's been recording stuff for over a decade, too," Jon added.
"I'm totally interested now. C'mon in."
Stephen stood to his feet and he ducked back into the front of that low house first, and Jon followed suit. Chino then turned to me, still with that thoughtful look riddled upon his face.
"You look like you wanna tell me something," I said to him.
"Something is hurting you," he whispered to me.
"I've been struggling so much lately," I told him.
"No, it's not that," he insisted. He gestured for me to follow him into another side of the house: the smell of cinnamon greeted me, as well as Stephen and Jon's voices from the kitchen right in front of us. Chino led me down the hall and towards a spot near the back of the house, a dark narrow room about the size of a closet lit up by nothing more than the ambient light from the setting sun. Bunches of orange and yellow marigolds had been collected around the floor around us; up against the wall was a heavy wooden shelf with a series of tall narrow candles surrounded by a half dozen bright and colorful sugar skulls: two pink ones, two blue, one black and one pearly white. The strip of the wall within the shelf was as dark as night.
"I know this might seem strange," he began in a low voice, "especially since we already met, but I feel the darkness within you. I feel that pain inside you. We're here at what I call the monolith—especially with Day of the Dead coming up here."
I set my guitar case down on the floor and I leaned it against the wall; it left us with a tight fit in there.
"Want me to close the door?" I asked him.
"Please. But not all the way, though."
I nudged the door partially closed, until there was an inch of clearance between the edge of the door and the actual frame.
"So, tell me—what's hurting you?"
I swallowed. I hadn't told anyone about the ache in my heart so much, such that I had no idea as to how to break it to him.
"It's alright," he assured me; the smell of the cinnamon gave way to the soft aroma laced in his hair. He had dyed his hair and then washed it all well away just for Jon and me.
"I'm in love with my best friend," I confessed; I dared not tell him if it was either Alex or Scott.
"Grieve for him," he said. "It is a 'he', right?"
"Yes."
"The ritual behind Dia de Los Muertos is to grieve for your loved ones who've passed. But sometimes grievance goes a little further than that. Sometimes grievance comes in the form of a hole in your heart because the one you love—love romantically, anyways—is not near you."
He pressed his back to the wall for me to stand before the monolith itself; but then he reached for a box of matches behind one of the candles. He took out a match and ignited it: he touched the flame upon the wicks of the candles: right in the middle of the shelf was a tray of incense sticks, and he lit up one of those as well. It reminded me of the menorah at Scott's house when we were growing up together; he blew out the match and we were greeted by the odor of the sulfur. The sole light against the darkness of that small room.
"Close your eyes for me," he said, "close your eyes and count backwards from twenty."
I closed my eyes and held still for him. I counted back from twenty; but before I got to ten, the mixed aromas and the fact we were alone in that room brought on something on the backs of my eyelids. The amber light from the flame shone onto my face; outside the Diablo winds were picking up, almost like clockwork.
"Feel him," he whispered to me. "Feel the softness of his body. Feel his heart and his mind. Feel as though you're making love to him. The one you love, so soft and silken against your body. Feel him—and now reach out to try and touch him—do you see him?"
Indeed, I made out the shape of a man's body behind my eyelids, but I couldn't tell if he was short like Scott or tall like Alex; stubby and lanky like Scott, or elegant and slightly round like Alex. All I could see was his silhouette against the darkness.
"Do you see him?" Chino asked me again.
"I do," I whispered in a broken voice.
"Touch him. Touch him and now—let him go—"
For a split second, Charlie burst into my mind, and then Scott and Alex followed suit. And then, nothing. The tears ran down my face and the pain in my chest returned, just like the winds outside.
Chino then handed me a marigold and kissed my forehead.
"Come on—I wanna hear you perform now."
Without another word, he blew out the candles and carried the incense out of there; I followed him as more tears streaked down my face. But I needed to have it all together as I prepared to put it on for the three of them.