Another weekend spent in the dungeon. I should be out skateboarding, or making a movie, or skydiving or something. Nope. I’m sitting in my basement watching my friend play Call of Duty 4, just like last weekend. On my Common App, I thought about putting “Psychic” as a future career. If asked for experience, I would simply say, “Well Harvard, I’ve correctly guessed what I’d be doing every weekend.”
But I don’t have to worry about that. I’m not going to Harvard, I know that much. Something about a 2.2 GPA frightens them away. I’m still looking. I’ll find something eventually. Until then…
“Dude, did you see that head shot? I wasn’t even aiming!” Billy said, hands gripping the controller.
“Yeah…cool,” I said, counting how many cracks in the ceiling connected with adjacent cracks.
“I’m definitely going 5th Prestige tonight.”
“Uh huh…”
And that was all that was said for about an hour.
*
The metronome clicked back and forth, mocking me for my every mistake. Each time Billy messed up a chord, and every time I missed the snare, it would keep on clicking, reminding us that we had failed.
“So this band is definitely gonna work, right? We’re gonna actually make music with this one, right?” I asked, flicking the metronome off its mighty pedestal.
“This is definitely gonna work. I got a bunch of lyrics written down, I got a bunch of guitar riffs, it’s gonna be great.”
“Okay, but we had lyrics last time too, but, you know, we have nothing to show for it.”
Billy was in the middle of tuning his strings, completely oblivious to the fact that he never went through with anything.
“It was a spur of the moment kind of thing.”
Great; even on the floor the metronome clicked.
“Oh, and this isn’t random? You dropped the controller and said ‘let’s start a band, dude.’ I don’t think it gets more random than that.”
“What do you want to be called?”
I started kicking the only consistent musician in our “band.’
“I really don’t think we need a band name, dude.”
“I was thinking maybe ‘Silent September” or something.”
I put my hand on my forehead and took a deep breath. He was going to have his way no matter what I said. Something told me that we wouldn’t have a band by the end of the week.
*
The T.V. was on, but it’s not like it mattered. We were staring through the television. Our vision went beyond the pixels that made up the random faces and places. I wiped a bit of drool off the side of my lip, and continued staring.
It’s not like I wanted to stay here. I wanted to get out of this basement. I wanted to see the world. Unfortunately, the wonders of the world could not be found in the town of Bridgeport. It was a black hole that greedily sucked up any trace of fun or excitement. I could have easily walked out my front door, but then what? Which of the four dollar stores should I visit tonight? Maybe I could swing by one of the parks and slide down the slide a few times.
“You still going to college?” Billy asked.
“Yeah, I think so,” I said. “It’ll be fun.”
“That’s cool dude.”
“How about you? How’s your job going?”
“Whatever, it’s fine,” he mumbled.
“It must be great not having to worry about all this college stuff.”
“I guess so.”
“I’d stay out all night too if I didn’t have to worry about school.”
“Yeah?” he asked, straightening himself upon the chair.
“Yeah. School’s stressful.”
“Well, let’s do something.”
“Like what?”
“You wanna do a home invasion?”
The basement was silent. I slowly turned around to stare at him, as if I’d make a difference in my hearing.
“What?” It was the only thing I could muster.
“A home invasion. We break into an empty house and do whatever we went with it.”
I couldn’t even utter another “what.” It was like my voice decided to get the hell out of town before Billy could say anything else. I wish I could’ve followed, but confusion had kept me chained to my basement.
“Are you out of your mind? That’s the best idea you got?”
Maybe I was taking this too far. He could’ve been joking, though his face said otherwise. His words were steady and deliberate, like he was giving me a homework assignment instead of asking me to commit a felony.
“If you got a better idea, let’s hear it. You keep saying you wanna have fun, well here you go.
“I got a couple of baseball bats and stuff in my basement. We can head over there, pick them up, and look for an easy target.”
I had to get off of my chair, for fear the cushions were causing me to hallucinate. He stood too, probably thinking it was my way of saying, “hell yeah, let’s go break into a house!”
So I stood there, carefully thinking it over. Why would I even consider a home invasion? Well, it was this, or more sitting around. A home invasion, or another Silent September jam session.
Stay home, a voice inside warned. Unless you wanna stay in a basement with no exit at all.
True. The last place I wanted to be in was in a prison cell. Yet anywhere-but-here sounded nice. I mean, really, what’s the difference between jail and my own basement?
“Well? You ready?”
I turned the television off.
*
“Which bat do you like better, the metal one, or the wooden one?” Billy asked.
“What do we need bats for?”
“I dunno. In case they come home.”
He stuck two metal baseball bats into his already full duffel bag, zipping it up as far as he could. I wanted to look inside, but he wouldn’t let me. As long as I didn’t have to carry it, I really didn’t care.
I looked around the basement. All of the furniture was covered up.
“You guys moving?”
“Yeah, next week.”
He had lived in this house since we were friends in the 2nd grade. I couldn’t imagine not hanging out here during the summer anymore. He always had the cool stuff that I could never afford. I always wondered why we hung out at my house instead of his.
Not like it matters though, right? College is just around the corner.
“Alright,” he said, picking up the bag. “Let’s go.”
*
It was like we were trick or treating all over again. Billy knocked on the door and motioned his eyes toward me, reminding me to keep it cool. I tapped my fingers against my legs, glancing at the door, then the bush to the left of me, then the door again. Green blur. Knock knock knock. Green blur. Knock…
“Hello?” a petite voice called from behind the door. Billy sighed and opened a box he was carrying under his arms. This wasn’t going to work…
“Good evening ma’am, I’m selling chocolate bars to raise money for my school. Would you like to buy some M&M’s or something?” He was always the better deceiver. If it had been up to me, we would’ve been in prison already.
“Oh, I would be glad to help your school,” the ‘ma’am’ said, opening the door just enough for us to see her face. “But I only have change, so bear with me now....”
*
Five houses and $4.82 later, we found ourselves in the gangway of a two-story home. Now, I’m not afraid of the dark, but it’s not exactly fun to stand in a dark gangway at 7PM. An intruder spotlight would’ve been nice.
They weren’t home. It was obvious after the fifth set of knocks. It was even more obvious at the fifth set of doorbell rings.
“Bingo,” he said. He dropped the duffle bag and started looking through it. “When we get inside, pick up the phone. If no one’s on the line, go scout out the basement. I’m gonna check up top.”
I nodded, much more interested in the lock pick he had assembled with a tiny tension wrench.
“How’d you learn how to do all of this?’
He smirked, his attention focused solely on his work. After a minute of careful tinkering, I heard a quiet click. He turned the knob, and pushed the door in a bit.
“It’s not like you have to be anyone to do this. Wait for an alarm.”
Carefully, he opened the door wider, waiting for some kind of echoing wail. He turned to me, as if looking for permission. I didn’t care what he did; I had my escape path all planned out.
He pushed the door open. No alarm. Billy snapped his finger blindly to the left as he made his way for the stairs. In the direction of his point, I found a wall phone. I picked it up, half-expecting a whispering voice to beg an operator to send help immediately. Again, false alarm.
I made my way down to the basement, my bat conjoined to my hands. I imagined stepping downstairs to a tea party full of old women, Billy screaming at me to “take them all down.”
Thankfully, we were three for three that night.
*
Homes like these were quite uncommon in Bridgeport. Everything was state-of-the-art and expensive. I mean, the toilet had a seat warmer! It doesn’t get anymore luxurious than that.
I was almost positive no one lived here. It was more like one of those houses that sale representatives liked to show off. There was no food in the entire house, yet electricity powered everything from the stainless steel refrigerator to the Blu-Ray player in the washer and dryer room.
“How could anyone afford all this?” I asked, staring at the wall-sized painting in the kitchen.
“Hard work,” Billy mumbled.
I turned to look at him.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Go grab some of those dishes.”
He changed topics, so something was obviously wrong. It would’ve pissed him off if I went any further, so I put it aside for the moment.
“What are we gonna do?”
“Play a little Frisbee,” he said. Not even a smile.
“Okay.”
I threw a plate to him. He moved out of the way. The plate hit the painting and broke into a bunch of pieces.
Wow that was fun, that inner voice said. How does it feel to break stuff you’ll never be able to afford?
Now neither of us were smiling.
*
I assumed Billy was just going to grab what he wanted, break some mirrors and leave. However, after he shut all the blinds in the house and locked the doors, I noticed that the whole invasion was very…official.
He sat down on a swivel chair in the T.V. room. He twirled a remote in his hand. I waited for him to turn on the 55-inch television, but he never did. He just stared at it, like it was a ghost. He seemed lost for once, his confidence left behind in that duffel bag of his. How could he have lost all of that confidence so quickly? Last year, he told me that we should drop out of school and start a band. I laughed and told him no.
He did it anyway.
Billy didn’t bother turning on any of the lights. He left his flashlight shining on the table in front of him. I asked him if it was okay to turn on a lamp or something. He shrugged.
“Whatever. Just dim it if you can.”
I sat on the other chair, patiently waiting for my next orders. Yeah, I was uncomfortable. Whatever he was thinking about, it seemed important, and this uncertainty freaked me out. Maybe he’ll drive a car through the door or something. Something crazy like that. Wouldn’t that feel nice?
“Do you think we’ll ever get to live like this?” I asked. It was an honest question. If it weren’t for the circumstances I was in, I would’ve felt welcome, like I belonged there.
He didn’t reply. He just kept spinning the remote.
“How much do you think that T.V. costs?” he asked. “Two-thousand?”
“Looks like a Sony, so that or more. Maybe three?”
“That’s a lot of money.”
I nodded, spinning myself around in the chair. Half way around, I saw Billy arch his arm back. All the way back around, the television had a crack running down the middle of the screen. I expected him to jump up in victory, but he just sat there. And so did I.
Tick, tick, tick, a phantom metronome declared.
“I got fired today. He didn’t even bother to talk to me; he just left a message,”
“Why would he do that?"
“And now I gotta find a place to live. They said if I got fired I had to move out and work for my own place. I don’t even have any money left.” He bowed his head, silent once more.
I looked back at the television, watching the cracks spread like cobwebs. It looked awfully familiar, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
“Let’s play a game,” he said, calmly standing up and walking towards his duffel bag.
“What kind of game?”
“There’s nothing left here for us.” He pulled out a 2-liter bottle filled with water. I sat there on the spinning, swiveling, twisty chair, feeling confused and isolated. It was like he was talking to himself, if that.
“Maybe we should just go, I mean, this was fun, but, you know, like you said, there’s nothing else to do, right?”
“I never said that.” He unscrewed the cap and sniffed inside. The smell crept out the bottle and stuck to the walls. I covered my nose and mouth, coughing. It was the fine smell of gasoline.
“You’re gonna burn the house down?”
“Just take the bottle, let’s have fun.”
Yeah, take the bottle. Burn down everything. It’ll make you feel powerful, right?
“I never agreed to this.”
“You agreed to a home invasion. What makes this any different?”
“I don’t wanna burn it down.”
“Well, I do, and you’re gonna help me.”
“Why do we have to burn it? I mean, why can’t we just break more stuff, I mean, that was fun, right?”
“Just take the bottle, now.”
“No…” He was out of his mind. “This has gone too far.”
He stared at me, and I saw a pained hatred in his eyes. He began emptying the bottle on the hardwood floor, his eyes following the lethal path.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. I felt like a coward, but this was the only way. I pressed three numbers and looked back at him. He too had reached into his pocket, producing something a little more dangerous than a cell phone.
“Billy, please don’t make me do this.”
“Really?” He laughed at me, like I was the most pathetic creature to stumble onto the earth. “What, you’re gonna call the cops on me? Gonna call my mommy? I dare you. Go ahead, go for it. But don’t forget, I’m not the only one who broke into this house.”
Even in his insanity he was smarter than me. I helped break into the house. I even checked the phone lines to make sure we were alone.
“I don’t care. I’m not letting you tell me what to do anymore. You’re not taking this house away from me.”
“You think this is your house? This’ll never be your house. Stop pretending you’re someone important. What makes you any better than me?“
He dropped the lighter. It took its time in its descent, savoring every last painful stare I had given it. It was a punch to the face, a grim reminder that I wasn’t welcome here.
“Hello operator?”
The flames crawled across the floor, setting ablaze everything in its way. He shoved me aside and walked toward the kitchen.
“My friend has just started a fire…” And yet, he wasn’t my friend anymore. He was someone else entirely. My best friend had traded Pokemon cards with me. My best friend had let me borrow his bike whenever he went on vacation. My best friend no longer existed.
I hung the phone up. Fire trucks and the police would be arriving ‘in two minutes.’
I’m no better than him…
“I’m sorry Bill, but…” Billy swung his bat across my face. Another metallic blur rushed across my vision as I tripped backwards, nearly landing in the fire.
“You betrayed me.” He swung the bat down at me. I rolled out of the way. “You really think you can just call the cops on your friend?”
I struggled to my feet and ran for the kitchen. I scanned the room for my own bat. It was nowhere to be found.
And then I was on the floor, blood pouring down the back of my neck, my shirt absorbing the end of the trail. I reached around for anything to steady myself with. I blinked, blood covering my already foggy vision.
The bat landed next to me, a metallic clink piercing my ears. It fell over, defeated.
“Oh, God…” a voice whispered behind me. “I…”
I couldn’t roll over. I couldn’t stare him in the eyes. I couldn’t say for certain if it was my best friend back there.
“I have nothing. I’m so sorry.”
The front door was kicked open. Every noise sounded like it came from a poorly tuned radio.
“Freeze! On…knees…mov…t!”
My head feels better with my eyes closed. Everything’s nicer with eyes closed…everything…and
*
“I’m no better…”
“Go back to sleep,” some voice said. I couldn’t open my eyes to see who. I heard a beeping noise. Where’s that metronome? I wanted it off.
“I’m somebody, right?”
“Of course you are.”
“I want a heated toilet seat and I’m better, right?”
“Go to sleep, Zack…”
Tick.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
I went to sleep.
*
There’s a brief moment of terror when you wake up somewhere new and forget you’re not even in your own bedroom. Nothing looks the same. The bed doesn’t even feel similar. Then you realize you’re staying over at a relative’s house. A friend’s house.
Or a hospital.
“You feeling better?” my mother asked.
“Yeah.”
“You’re really lucky. He could’ve shattered your spine.”
“What happened?” I knew the answer already. I was hoping she would tell me that some stranger mugged me and hit me over the head and ran away, thus disproving what I thought I already knew.
“Billy hit you on the head with a baseball bat. He was so angry you wouldn’t let him break into the house.”
I gripped the blankets that covered me.
“What house?” I asked, upping the melodrama as much I could.
“Billy broke into his parents new home and tried to burn it down.“
It’s not like you have to be anyone to do this.
“You saved the house. You’re very brave.”
“Thanks, mom.” I could barely look her in the eyes.
*
I only had one memorable dream that night. Billy was sitting in a prison cell playing Call of Duty 4. It must’ve been the medication; it looked a lot like my basement.
You tell me I’m nobody, but look who’s in jail.
I saved your life…isn’t that enough?
And then I was somewhere entirely new. Prison bars turned to birch trees. A few of birds flew overhead…you know, all that cliché ‘new beginnings’ kind of stuff. No fires in sight. This was a much nicer dream.
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