Chapter Thirty -- Going Up

Uncle Dan's car was parked in the back. I was surprised but thankful to see my uncle beat us home. We wouldn't have to face Glenda's wrath alone.

She stood on the porch, waiting. Sid and I sat in the car as it idled for a few minutes in the driveway. He grimaced then reached over for my hand, and I leaned into him as he turned off the car. The cut on his forehead looked nasty. His eyelids fluttered as my finger tips lightly traced the cut.

"Better?" I asked. Sid bit his lip and nodded-- then he looked into the rearview mirror, lightly touching his forehead, wiping away the blood. His own finger traced the clean scar where the gash once was. He looked at me confused.

"How?" 

"I don't know, I just do it," I answered. 

"This is amazing. You didn't tell me you could heal people. Just think of the money you could rake in as televangelist."

"Well, it's not something that I want to become common knowledge. It's one of those abilities the Community and Shackleton covet. I wouldn't normally do it, but I don't think you're going to get to a doctor any time soon." 

He squeezed my hand and then feigned a cough. "Can you get rid of a cold?"  

I blushed thinking about touching his chest. I laughed then looked toward the porch. 

"Well, not today," I said, nodding to Glenda. "I guess we should get out and get this over with..."

We walked up to the house like two inmates on death row. She fixedly stared at me then Sid. I glared right back at her. She scowled down at Sid's forehead as I climbed up the front stairs, two steps ahead of him. It seemed to me she should act more concerned than pissed off. Christ-- we were both covered in blood. I looked into her face. Her lips and brow were an unforgiving line. I knew she'd witnessed everything in the car-- that was kinda the point of my little exhibition when I healed him. I figured it would save time if she knew what Sid meant to me, that he knew what I was, what we are, besides he had needed attention. He was in pain. As I brushed past her, my hand intentionally came in contact with hers, hoping to get some insight into what she was thinking with some of my psychic sense. Maybe I could pass on a bit of what I was thinking to her. Most times my powers came and went like so much wind, but this time they worked-- like 2000 volts I saw into her. She knew. And she didn't like what she saw.

Well fuck, this wasn't going to be pleasant.

As I walked into the house, I felt something was off. I've heard of times when people know something just isn't right-- like moments before a car accident or some natural disaster. I've had some of those moments recently, too. As I listened to the old grandfather clock tic-tocking, I felt the universe miss-- like it was out of sync. I balled my right hand into a fist. I felt my finger tingling where I'd touched her hand. I was unsure and afraid of what to say. I wasn't at all positive that she wasn't a threat to Sid. 

As she followed us into the living room, I got that familiar ache behind my eyes. Tension headache number 2,012. Finding out that I wasn't the 'Wes' she thought I was didn't make her too happy either. She already figured that bit of the puzzle out at breakfast this morning. Those pancakes were made with love for someone else named Wes, not me. I knew she was afraid of Shackleton. But it was Sid whom she feared most right now. I knew it wasn't going to be easy convincing her that Sid could be trusted without becoming one of them. She hated the idea of bringing a mortal, no matter how noble, into their inner circle. 

I was glad to see my uncle in the living room. I hoped he was on our side. He sat cross legged on the old couch, his rumpled gray suit coat strewn over the arm of the sofa. 

I collected my nerves and pulled Sid's hand, leading him to the piano bench, intentionally divorcing us from them. The legs of the bench scraped against the hardwood floor, reverberating in the hollow room. We both sat down. The bench was hard and unforgiving. Sid was at a loss, his hands fumbling for something to do. I shoved my hands between my legs. He looked to me for a sign-- some help I was. I didn't know what to do, so I grabbed his hand. 

Glenda's eyes turned to ice as she stared at our clasped hands. Not the right move on my part. 

My voice came out squeaky. "So you know. I'm sorry. I can't help what I feel." I felt like a kid.

"Feel? Can't help what you feel? Control yourself," she paced the room. "You must or all is lost. Plotting out all the possible ramifications for each action you may take-- that is the way. Shackleton seeks pain for a reason. Feeling makes us weak. He would make us all feel as you do. Bring us down. Break us as he did you. He may have the secret now. You do not have to act on what you feel. Think! Separate yourself! Feeling causes pain. Chaos. It destroys."

She stopped pacing and stopped, facing us. I couldn't believe she had everything so wrong. She thought Shackleton wanted my ability to feel pain so he could use it against immortals. No. He wanted it for himself. 

Her eyes narrowed on Sid. "And you!" she hissed. "What are you? What kind of spell do you cast that causes such desire, such pain, such chaos?"

Sid opened his mouth to speak, but I cleared my throat and found my voice instead: "You're wrong. Sid is not the cause. Neither is pain. Feeling doesn't have to destroy. You've forgotten what it's like. Pain can be a blessing. It is what kept me alive all that time when I was buried alive. I didn't age, didn't break down. Shackleton took nothing from me but time and blood. He never touched my mind or heart. My thoughts were my own, my heart is my own. He took nothing important from me. Nothing that mattered. Look at Shackleton. It's easy for him to inflict pain. He feels nothing. In his twisted way, he's living through others' pain. He doesn't  want to give pain away. He doesn't want to shove it on you. He wants it for himself."

"How do you know this? Did he tell you?" asked my uncle.

"I experience it..."

"I think it's pretty evident," Sid interrupted. "Tormenting others is just a plus for him; it's not his goal. He wants power. He wants what Wes can do. Move from one universe to the next."

"You!" Glenda exclaimed. "What do you know about any of this?"

"I know he's a power hungry manic," he answered. "I know Shackleton's insane."

"Why did you bring him into all this?" she asked me. "Why did you?"

"I ask myself that all the time. Do you think I want to put someone I love in this kind of peril? Shackleton knows about him. He knows Wes loves him. He knows I love him."

"So he's using him against you? That's just perfect! This needs to end. End it now with him."

"I can't and neither can your Wes... I love him."

"Love?" she spat. "That is the source of all weakness."

"You say you love me. Do you think that is a weakness?"

"Yes. My only weakness is that I love. You, Les, my brother... It is the only source of pain I feel."

"You should feel it. How can you truly love if you don't know pain?"

"Enough of this," my uncle interrupted, turning to me. "You seem to think you know what Shackleton wanted from you. Tell us if you know."

"I'm not sure. But Sid's right; he is crazy. The insane aren't run by logic. He thinks he knows what he wants, but he doesn't. He thinks he wants to be a god: travel through universes; feel passion and pain; he wants it all. He wants control. He believes my blood carries the answer. I don't know if it does." 

"I suppose you think he wants love, too." Glenda spat at me.

"Ultimately, he does-- but he doesn't know it." I squeezed Sid's hand. "He's searching for it-- but you can't find something when you don't know what you're looking for."

She looked at Sid.

"What are we to do with him?" she asked me.

"Nothing. Leave him alone. What threat is he to any of you? The only threat he holds is in your mind."

"And when you leave, and our Wes comes back to us, do you expect us to just ignore him?"

"His name is Sid, and no, I don't expect you to ignore him-- I expect you to embrace him."

"You expect too much."

"Mom used to tell me that I should set my expectations high," I said. 

"Your mom expected so much of others she ended up dead."

I was dumbfounded. What did she know about my life? My parents? She could never take that verbal slap in the face back. 

"You don't know what I came from. You don't know who I am. I hope I can return to my universe or time-- Wes in this time won't let you touch him either. Hurt him and you hurt us. Harm him-- now or in the future-- we'll all find out exactly how much power I hold. I don't think you want to know. You think love is your weakness, but it's not mine. Love is the source of my strength."

-------------------

We came to a compromise. Sid and I slept in separate rooms. I'd keep my distance for now. I was satisfied Glenda would leave Sid alone. What went unsaid was making Sid like us. I didn't want to bring it up in front of Sid. He didn't need to know this was even an 'option'-- not in this universe.

The night before, I knew Sid would be safe in the room next to me. Uncle Dan stayed downstairs, talking with Glenda late into the night. I stole downstairs and talked to them both-- without Sid.  

As I got ready for my night's performance, I patted the baggie in my front pocket. This had to work. I'd flatted out the sand in the bag and crammed it into my leather jeans and practiced reaching into my pocket with my guitar in my hand. The leather pants were kind of tight, but I could manage to get my hand down in them fine.

Then I did the Coach Davis pep talk in the bathroom mirror. I yelled so loud at myself, Les knocked at my door to see what was wrong. Then I impersonated my high school chem teacher, Mr. Dammarest, giving his pre AP exam pump up. Being nervous and hyped was good. 

Les and I left late to go to the Road House. I'd be nice to see the place again when it wasn't a charred heap like it was in my universe. We left late because I was nervous. I wanted to see the place again, I wanted to set up, get ready, prepare myself-- but I spent half my time talking to myself in the mirror, trying to get into the right state of mind. How the fuck does anyone gets into the right state of mind to jump universes? 

Sitting in the car mindlessly watching the houses go past as Les drove, all I could think of was how much I wanted Sid, but he rode with my uncle. The last hours we'd been kept separated. I believed putting space between us was best. I didn't trust myself with the roses so close and Sid so near. Keeping him at a distance was my uncle's and my way to appease Aunt Glenda. I felt like I was in withdrawal with him so near. My stomach lurched. My hands shook. Christ, when I saw him I broke out into a sweat. I kept blaming the fucking roses. I hoped denying my fix would work to my advantage. Yeah, being edgy will take me back to my Sid. I was terrified tonight would work, and I was terrified it wouldn't. 

Les hummed the theme song to Gilligan's Island as he made a detour, turning into McDonald's. I counted the greasy smudges on the take-out window as he paid for his number three value meal. I didn't get anything. My stomach was churning enough already without a Big Mac and coke. My legs were jumping like I was wired with caffeine. Les pulled out onto Michigan Avenue, and I pushed down on my knees to stop them from bouncing when he nailed the brakes, and I heard our tires screeching. The car in the far lane stopped the same time we did. My arms didn't react in time-- my nose smacking the dash board. 

"What the fuck?" I hissed, holding my nose. "That's what I get for not putting on my seatbelt."

"Had to slam on the brakes--" Les said, chewing on a fry. "Damn cat just crossed our path."  He reached for another limp fry then pointed to the black cat skittering off the side of the road. He looked at me sideways. "You ok? How's your nose?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, but I bit my fucking tongue, too." 

"Probably tastes better than this quarter pounder with cheese."  

I wasn't one to believe in bad omens, but that fucking black cat had me nervous. Shit. 

The rest of the ride was uneventful, just old country side roads littered with potholes. We pulled into the back lot of the Road House and started to unload our equipment from Les's back seat when Les looked down at me and laughed. 

"What's wrong?" I asked. 

"You better rearrange that bulge," Les pointed to my crotch. "People will think we're in love..."

I blushed as I looked down. Damn tight leather pants gave everything away. 

"Shit," I said, jumping around. "It's the sand--"

"Ha-- that's a new one," Les grinned.

"No seriously, it's the baggie with sand in it." I squirmed around, trying to shift the contents of my pocket.

I heard Lynn's squeal too late. My body lurched forward as she jumped on my back, wrapping her arms around my throat like a boa constrictor. I dropped my guitar case.

"Fuck Lynn, you're choking me!"

She mussed my hair before letting me go and giving me a noisy kiss on the cheek. 

"Can't wait to hear you play again, baby." 

"Yeah, I can't wait to play either." I smiled wide and giggled. She was a beautiful sight. Tight white linen skirt with sling backs. All bounces and bubbles with her hair perfect, lips bright.  I thought she looked like she'd burst any moment from excitement. She teetered, beaming beside me. 

"You look great," I said. "Special occasion?"

"Well of course it is!" she said, hitting me hard in the shoulder making me drop my guitar for the second time. "You're playing-- you nimrod!"

Damn that hurt. I massaged my shoulder and picked my case back up. 

Lynn followed us through the back door, chattering animatedly the whole while. I tried to pay attention to what she said, but I was too distracted. She was so much, wah, wah, wah. 

He was already there. I walked in and saw him. Sid leaned against the wall to the right of the stage, talking to Jimbo. 

He hadn't noticed me yet. Sid laughed at Jimbo. I sighed. Christ, Sid looked handsome. Flannel shirt, slow smile and faded jeans. His smile became mine as he turned to me. I waved him over, and I wasn’t sure why. I just wanted him near.

Uncle Dan sat at the front table with a glass of beer in his hand watching. He didn't approve, but at this point, I didn't give a shit. Aunt Glenda hadn't come. She didn't like smoke or drunks. I could tell by the way he was watching, she'd expect a detailed report from him when he got home. Uncle Dan. I'd never get used to calling him my that. He just didn't look like anyone's uncle to me... not mine for sure. 

I bent down and opened my case. My palms were itchy and sweaty.

"Help me?" I asked.

"Sure," Sid answered, raising his eyebrow as he looked down, "but first explain why your face is flushed and smeared with lipstick, and why you've got a raging hard-on."

I wiped my cheek, sputtering. 

"Fuck, I... Lynn... I mean... she kissed me... I mean... Oh, fuck!" I felt my face getting hotter and hotter. "It's not me-- it's sand in my pocket. Damn. Want to see?!"

"No, that's quite alright. I've seen enough," he said, waving his hands in front of his eyes.

"Hey, you're enjoying this!"

"Yeah, well, you're so damn cute when you're flustered."

Sid helped set up. My stomach did somersaults and hand springs every time he brushed my arm or leg. Cripes.

------------------

The first set went by fast. I joked and jumped around on stage. Les, Uncle Dan and Sid never took their eyes off me, waiting for my transformation. I did well at first. Songs I didn't know, I faked. I couldn't keep it up though. By the second set, I was so anxious, I started forgetting a lot of the lyrics and riffs I did know. I wasn't sure if it was me or being watched every second like I was going to disappear in a cloud of smoke. As the set ended and we walked to the side of the stage, Les pulled me aside.

"You alright?" Les asked. 

"You can take a break this set," Smith suggested, tinkering with his earring. "Get yourself together. No pressure.You're still not yourself."

I shook my head and said, "No, I want to play. I have to..."

Shit, not myself, Smith didn't know how close he was. John rubbed my back, working out the tension between my shoulders, "You'll get over the first night back jitters before we finish."

I threw back three gulps of water and poured some over my head. Fuck it was hot in here tonight.

I shook the water out of my hair as I stepped out with the guys to play again. My fan club cheered me on as I picked up my guitar. Lynn, the leader, bounced wildly-- waving, blowing kisses, and grinning at me. The sand had shifted again into a big bulge. I felt like that heavy metal rocker who shoves a sock down their pants to impress the ladies. What's his name? Axl Rose? 

I was wired. Sweat dripped off my nose and my hands were slick from both the heat of this close, hot place and raw nerves. By the time we neared the end of the third set, I felt confident. Les belted out the first words to "It's the End of the World as We Know It," and I nodded at Sid, sitting with a strained smile on his face. The dance floor filled in seconds, blocking Sid's table from my view. There wasn't a space left on the floor by the time Les got to the second verse. I noticed the entire band was in their own little worlds. Les was immersed in the story of the song-- eyes closed, fingers effortlessly gliding on his Fender. Smith smiled lazily, watching Les. Jimbo winked at his new significant other, who sat watching us at the side of the stage. John strained his eyes looking through the nuts to butts, searching for that special someone to take home after the show. Someone long on legs but short on brains. And me-- I listened to Les's perfect vocals, and in the back of my mind I decided it was time. 

The place smelled of sweat, beer and cheap cigarettes while Les sang:

The other night I dreamt of knives, continental
Drift divide. Mountains sit in a line, Leonard
Bernstein. Leonid Brezhnev, Lenny Bruce and Lester
Bangs. Birthday party, cheesecake, jelly bean, boom! You
Symbiotic, patriotic, slam book neck, right? right

And I stepped up beside him and sang into the mic, my face pressed into his, our voices melding:

It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine...

The hairs on my arms stood on end as I took a shaky step back, counting one, two, three.   

I closed my eyes and whispered the only thing that would come to me, "There's no place like home." My right hand dropped from the guitar. I open and closed my fist. Silly, honest, pain churned in my gut as I hiccupped nervously, then stretched the leather of my pocket with the fingers on my right hand, reaching, reaching, reaching in. I heard my harem fan club in front of the stage howl as I groped deeper in my pocket. I knew Les's eyes were on me. I felt the bag. Nothing like feeling myself up in front of the crowd. 

The clapping hands, stomping feet faded. I struggled to open the seal on the baggie. I slipped one finger, unlocking one corner, reaching into the sand. Behind my eyes, I saw it glitter or imagined I did. It clung to my damp fingers, becoming a part of me. I couldn't smell the cigarettes or the beer or the sweat anymore. Instead, the room smelled like ozone after a storm. Then I  heard Sid to my right calling my name. I opened my eyes, and I wasn't in Kansas anymore.

I was in Pontiac. 

With a jolt I saw an ocean of bodies, swaying in front of me. My eyes adjusted. The sparks of light from the sand turned to hundreds of lighters flickering. They were everywhere-- high, low, thrust up into the seats like twinkling stars in the night. The last notes from the song still lingered in the stadium, and the rhythmic applause vibrated the floor of our stage. I was frozen. 

It worked. I was back.

Smith turned to me, frowning, then raised an eye bow wondering what the hell was wrong with me. John and Jimbo looked to me, and I realized they expected me to speak-- do something. Les stepped next to me, linking his arm through mine where my hand was in still snug in my pocket. My face was hot. Les pulled me forward, hugging me next to him. The chanting, my name and the band's name, the syllables expanded like ripples. I listened for the one voice I wanted to hear. My head turned slowly to the right when I heard it. Sid stood by amps. 

Dressed in a suit and tie. 

Hands in this pockets. 

Jingling his change. 

Smiling. 

For me.

He knew. He knew it was me. 

I laughed and cried, hugging Les. Then I turned to the crowd. I waited my whole life to play in front of an audience this size in this place. I'd been here so many times, and dreamed of standing in this spot on stage. Playing the Silverdome. Shit. And I missed the whole show. Waving my candy apple red Gibson above my head like a flag, I heard Les shout above the crowd. 

The stadium quieted.

"You win!" he hollered. "One More Song," and the place erupted. He cupped his hand to my ear and yelled into it, "Good to have you back."

He pinched my cheek, then took one step back.

"You're on!" he nodded.

I panicked. 

"But what are we playing?" I yelled back.

"What are you crazy? You're playing 'One More Song'... " he waved, bowed, then stepped back beside Smith. Leaving me. Center stage. Alone.  

For the rest of my life, I will never forget that split second of terror. 

I blew on my fingers then wiped the sand off on the front of my legs. I smiled at Sid, then I struck the first chord. I sang the words to this song I'd written for him. Only for him.

My soul gave the best performance of my life.

------------------

Afterward. Cosmic. Surreal. I was hustled backstage, through the corridors, out the back entrance, into the tour bus. No Sid. He'd disappeared. Smith and Les were already curled up together in the back. I sat in the seat in front of them.

"Might as well relax," Les whispered to me. "It'll be a few minutes."

I leaned my back against the window, threw my legs across the seat and waited, watching the front of the bus.

"Where do we go from here?" I asked.

"Off to the hotel. We're staying at the Hilton. I think it's near here..."

"Near here?" Smith mumbled, opening an eye and looking at Les. "It's fucking across the street."

I rubbed my pocket and tried to get comfortable as possible.

"Throw me one of your pillows," I said, looking to the front of the bus again. "This window is hard."

"Mmm, need something soft to lean into?" Smith said. "Sid'll be here in a few. He's just making sure everything's in order for tomorrow night."

I nodded. But I still watched the front of the bus, waiting. 

Sid was loosening his tie as he came up the steps, his soulful hazel eyes meeting mine. Smith nudged my shoulder and laughed but my eyes never left Sid's as I swung my legs off the seat and watched him walk down the aisle. 

He stood in front of me, chin quivering twice as he sat down. He pressed his lips together tight, composing himself. His eyes smiled. When he touched my arm, it was all over with. I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed him so tight he groaned. 

"Geeze," said Smith, "you think  you hadn't seen him for months or something..."

Sid and I both looked at him and laughed. The bus started to move.

----------------------------

I fidgeted, standing in the corner. The elevator doors at the Hilton whooshed shut, and it lurched up.

"How safe is this thing?" I asked, pressing my hand flat to the wall and looking up at the ceiling. Not that someone invincible should worry, but shit, it might be painful falling five stories.

"This is a four star hotel. I'm sure it's safe. Want to test it?" He gave me a wicked smile and punched his finger into the red button labeled 'emergency only.' The elevator lurched again-- this time to a stop. He slammed his body into me, thighs inching mine apart, toes mashing into my instep and cheek pressing hard into my forehead. 

"God, I've waited for this..." he moaned, his mouth covering mine. His tasted like cinnamon Life-Savers. 

Time stopped. I could feel every inch of him-- and I mean every inch-- as he ground me into the corner. I whimpered as he took his mouth from mine. I pulled on his tie with one hand to bring him in tighter, closer. "I've always wanted to fuck on an elevator..." he whispered into my ear then licked it, sending heat straight from my earlobe to my cock. He teeth tugged on my ear as his hard cock rubbed into my growing erection. "Sorry we don't have enough time for that." I yanked his tie again as he broke contact; his nose bumped into mine. "We'll have to wait until I get in you in the room for me to do you proper."

"Fuck--" I moaned, watching him lick his bottom lip. Then he kneeled in front on me, grabbing my hips, rocking me forward so that I had to throw my arms out against the sides of the elevator to brace myself. His hands slid up my calves then pressed on up my legs, caressing my inner thighs, cupping my balls. My legs buckled as he absently brushed my cock and reached for the zipper on my leather pants. 

"This will have to do," he said.

I thought I'd come right there. 

"Jesus--" He pulled my cock out, already hard and anxious to feel the inside of his mouth. I looked at the top of his sandy head, his eyelashes fluttered. I could see his nose twitching. God I'd missed this view.

I leaned back into the corner as I felt the sloppy, slick grip of his mouth. His teeth scraped lightly against the head of my dick. His head jerked a bit as we both heard voices above us. He knew he didn't have much time to tease me. He grabbed my ass and thrust me hard into his mouth, hitting the back of his throat. With quick, hard thrusts, he made it his goal to make me come fast. His mouth was urgent. The voices from above became louder. I looked down and saw those perfect lips around my cock and that was it for me. My thighs tensed. 

I came in his mouth as the elevator jerked up. 

I think it was evident what we were doing in the elevator. Sid was wiping his satisfied grin and my come off his mouth when the door opened. I barely had time to put my dick back in my pants and zip them.  I knew the moment I saw my uncle's face go from a look of concern to annoyed that he was pissed. 

Sid hustled me off down the hall to our room. I didn't look back once.