Chapter Three

Around six-thirty, realistically by six ten, Nate was already up and ready for the day. He had been up for some time, just lying there and looking at the shapes in the ceiling above him. Sleeping in four-to-six-hour blocks had progressively become his new norm. Nate chalked this unwelcome change up to being stress induced, and he was right. Two years before, a measly two years that passed in the blink of an eye, Nate would have slept eight to nine hours straight. Without any care in the world if he should have been up or not, or if he had anything that he would have rather been doing other than catching up on some sleep. How quickly things changed in dire times of stress.

“Wait a sec, you,” he demanded of the golden blur that was moving about in his home. “Your collar. It has studs today. I’ll take a picture.” Then thinking about any picture that he took would also have been different the next day, that made him decide otherwise. “Never mind it, pup. Doesn’t matter anyways. Just talking to myself and stressing myself out. Hey now, want a treat? Oh, yeah, yeah you do. Alright, alright, calm down. Sit. Sit. Stay. There you go. Off with you now. Good girl!”

Margo, with her now orange coated and newly studded collar, that had probably always been such a way, trotted away triumphantly from Nate. With treat in mouth she ventured out and towards parts unknown, and hither told to being soon no longer uncharted upon any such map as anyone would have ever seen.

Nate smirked, “At least you haven’t changed the last few days, Margo. You’re my rock it seems.”

Margo went about her business without casting even a passing glance back at him. She was busy with her own adventures and nonsense, and he thought better than to further harass the dog. She was on a mission to enjoy her treat in secret. Who was he to stop that?

Nate’s drive to work felt off. Again, Nate had that twitchy feeling that things were rearranged on him. That things were, like the collar and John’s new beard, always the way they had been. That somehow he was in his own head about things.

Yet he noticed that the old street signs were a lighter shade of color today. Brighter and each one was just a bit different than they had always been. At least from what he thought they had always looked like. He had almost missed a green light because he was busy staring at a mattress store, trying to decipher what it was that had changed in the windows. The colors? No, the sign’s mascot. Was it always a bear? Yesterday it was a sheep, though-

The car behind him honked, waking him out from his deep seeded thoughts of sheep verses bears. Other businesses on his drive were also like that. Little changes littering their window and signs, most had something that he couldn’t entirely put his finger on what was bothering him. Something was there; something had changed. The collar had been changed! He’d have noticed that earlier rather than later on. And much like with Margo he’d let whatever it was about something itch at his mind. Just underneath the surface. The tire shop had an inflatable tube monster in the front. They had a pile of tires with arms and a googly eyed face, at least since he was in middle school. Of that he was more than certain of. He attempted to relax with the radio playing a random station at him. Everything would just continue to remain bothering him, Nate tried to make his peace with that.

His usual parking spot was, as he had hoped like always, open and free of transgressors. As long this small part of his life hadn’t changed, then he could pretend that he wasn’t losing his mind. Though something was bothering at him, picking itself into his attention just off in the corner, itching for his direct and undivided attention. Nate couldn’t figure out what it was until he closed the car door.

The tree, the bark on it was a different color, lighter than it had always been. “God dammit,” he murmured. He’d been parking there for years, four of them as an assistant manager. He knew what the damn tree had looked like. It was always dark, with coarse, yet thin leaves that grew out most of the year. Around winter the landscaping company would come by and hack it all down. Then it would do the same thing the next year.

Today it was an oak tree, with cragged branches that were barren of any leaves. From the looks of the broken ends of the branches, also hadn’t had any leaves on them in quite some time.

John’s words of advice, ‘to cut himself slack’, ran itself in and out of his head. Nate felt himself sigh. More so than making himself do so. He tried relaxing his shoulders. It was after all just a tree. Nothing important that he should lose his mind over. Simply a tree, that he never noticed looked like this before today. Not like he was already here, parked beneath it, you know, yesterday or anything…

“You alright there, Nate?” a velvet lined voice across the way asked, the smell of autumn leaves followed close by after each spoken word.

“What? Oh, morning, Julie. No, no I’m alright. Just. I’m worn out is all. At least I hope that’s all it is. Otherwise, I’m just losing my mind is all,” he attempted to give her a reassuring smile. Fooling himself more so than her. Her eyes pierced straight through him.

“I’m sure you’ll bounce back. You usually do?” The last statement hung in the air as more of a question than anything else.

“Usually?” Nate asked, “What do you mean? I’m always a glowing ray of bubbly happiness filled sunshine that drenches the world in boundless optimism, let alone endless joy.”

Julia laughed at him. She laughed in a way that included giggles inside of it, and to Nate’s surprise, a few snorting sounds. “What are you, even, talking about? You are never happy. I’ve only seen you smile, like what, twice in all the time I’ve known you. When we got those comics that you liked back in stock, and what, when that guy came in trying to sell chickens or whatever that was even about.”

“I forgot about the chicken man. That was awesome,” Nate without realizing it, had smiled again, “There was no way in hell that he being serious. There was no way.”

“Oh yes, he was very serious. And you almost said yes to owning a chicken. Five more minutes of his smooth talking and you’d have said yes to whatever he wanted you to.” Julia smirked almost triumphantly at him. She stretched her arms out, not unlike a cat, and stifled a yawn. “But you, Nate. You are rarely a happy person. Kind of a grouchy sad guss. Maybe a chicken would have cheered you up after all. Something to yell at you to get out of your funk.”

“A friend of mine said something that was about like that too. Me not being much of a happy person. I must be wearing a sign or something. He said I liked getting yelled at. Which is very much not true, like at all. You don’t think I’m like that, do you?”

“Maybe it’s that big frown you’re always dragging around. Though that might just be how your face naturally gets. That’s all it probably is. Smile more, it may change your life someday,” Julie suggested playfully, before holding the front door open for him.

He nodded and curtsied to her, before going inside. She stifled a giggle, or he imagined it.

The remainder of the morning was brief and easy enough. As it usually was each day. With only a few customers that stood out. No one had tried to sell anyone a chicken that day, to everyone’s collective disappointment. And no one had any collectively accepted problems, no one other than Nate.

He felt out of place, a proverbial fish out of water walking around the ‘book’ store. His employment there had been years and years of the same routines, Nate knew each and every part of the establishment. Where the excess stock was hidden, where to find all of the good and albeit bad things, where even the small brown box of shameful adult reading material was hidden. All of the ins and outs that the public would never see, but could probably guess with shocking accuracy, were within his domain to know.

Today however, everything within sight looked and felt different, even damn near new. The book titles that he had more than started to memorize from the new displays were now completely foreign and alien to him. It hadn’t been long since the last renovations. Everything had been moved around in the front and the artsy sections for a promotion involving a children’s book series. A cruel joke felt like it was being played out on him. Titles were worded differently, off by just a few letters or characters, some of the words themselves were rearranged. With more than several having altogether different pictures of cover art on their covers. A dragon here, an aged witch or wizard there, or some old edition without a picture but an engraved or embossed outline of a large oak tree on the cover, spine, and rear of the book.

Nate tried to write these things off as different additions of the same books. There must have been an earlier shipment and restocking that he had missed. At least that was what he attempted to convince himself. All day yesterday he had been there. Hell he was there almost every day. He’d have known if that had happened, right? He was the assistant manager, he’d have known if something big had been done, some simple renovation was always his call to-

“Excuse me?” Behind him a man asked, Nate had been putting a fallen copy of a fantasy book back into its place. It had a castle on the cover, guarded by a red dragon.

“Yes? What can I do for you today?” Nate remembering the earlier conversation, flashed a quick friendly smile.

“Do you know where the horror is? I can’t find it anywhere,” the man was a short older gentlemen with a crop of dark hair on his head. He also had the sort of face and countenance that Nate knew from experience would make him instantly forgettable. It was just another little old man in a book store.

“Last time I had checked-” Nate explained while leading the way, “Horror was over, here. But I think we’ve reorganized lately. I’ve been trying to re-find everything myself today. Michael, where is the horror section? We’re having a hard time finding it for some reason.”

“Over by the science books. Towards the front corner over there. Just past the backpacks. There’s a sign up on the top of the rack so you’ll know you’re there.” Michael pointed to a spot that Nate hadn’t seen yet. Hell, he realized, he hadn’t even noticed the new backpacks yet. Everything was both dark and bright and shiny new. Since when did they have ‘Where the wild things are’ merch?

“Thanks, Michael. I appreciate it,” Nate said before turning to the customer, “Anything in particular you were looking for?”

“Oh no. Just wanted to browse around is all. Might get something for my grandkids. They’ve been telling me about how they are reading Edgar Allen Poe in school and I wanted to get them each a copy of his stories. Thank you both,” the man nodded and moseyed on over to the designated section, never to be seen again.

When the man was out of earshot, Michael asked, “You alright, Nate? You helped me set that area up, like two days ago,” tilting his head to one side Nate felt that Michael’s eyes were questioning him more than his words were.

“Yeah, yeah, no I’m okay. Long couple of days, I think. I guess that’s all it is. I’m okay.”

“Not that it’s my place or anything here, Nate. But you may want to take some time off. You shouldn’t be torturing yourself with work when you’ve got stuff going on,” Michael suggested with a shrug. “I’m more than sure everyone would understand and agree with me on that.”

Nate smiled, “Thank you. I’ve been coming around to the idea myself, actually. I’m starting to think everyone is probably right. Some time off might be a good idea. The bossman was saying the same thing too. I’ll, I’ll ask him in a little bit what he thinks. He should be back soon from the bank run.”

“You should have more than enough time saved up. You’re always here so I’d imagine you could take at least a couple weeks off anyways. We can manage a while without you.” Michael pointed this out, before quickly adding, “I mean, it will be tough and all, but we can figure-”

Nate raised his hands up defensively to cut Michael off. “I know what you mean. It’s alright. And yeah, I have enough time saved up to take a few weeks off. If I burn all of it, then nothing here will look the same when I get back.”

“Feels like that might already be the case now. What with how you keep looking around like you’ve never been here before and everything,” Michael scratched the tip of his nose. He always was an observant guy.

“Fair point.”

Nate tracked the manager Carl down when he came back in the store. He had been doing inventory at another location for most of the day, as well as the usual bank run. They discussed a handful of things pertaining to the running and goings on involved with a modest bookstore, before Nate asked for the time off. Carl was more than accommodating, he even tried to convince Nate to go home right then and there, in the nicest way possible. He’d been worried about Nate burning himself out for the last couple of weeks as it was. Though Nate held on strong and convinced him to let him finish out the day. They’d need the help closing, at least for the one day. The manager Carl yielded, and they marked it on the company calendar to make the whole thing official.

After that the remainder of the day continued on quickly, nothing else of interest occurred at work. The next thing Nate knew, he was back in his car driving. The engine purred and growled as he depressed the gas petal to reach a steady cruising speed, just above the speed limit. Give or take five miles, and an hour, if even that. Shuffling through the radio presets, Nate decided on putting in a cd from the glovebox. At the next redlight he dug through the pile there and found one, without looking at what it was he inserted it into the cd-player. The interior of the car flooded itself with the sounds of a soft twelve string guitar echoing about in a small recording studio.

Nate began to sing along once the vocals came into the song. He made it through most of the disc before his house appeared into view.

“Margo?” Nate asked the room, opening the front door, slowly. She wasn’t in the window, and that was a little odd for her. Might have taken a nap.

A fuzzy golden blur answered by tackling into his legs, nearly throwing him down on his butt. “Jesus…relax pup, okay, okay. I’m back. Alright, come on. There you go.” Stray bits of hair left itself on his pants until he reached down and dusted them off.

Nate changed out from within his work clothes and into soft, recently pulled from the dryer warm, pajamas. Earlier he had the forethought and texted John that he was going to stay in tonight, maybe watch a movie or two before calling it a day. John said that sounded like a good idea, and asked if they were still on for the hospital tomorrow, and if so what time. Then he called to ask the same questions, for good measure. The conversation went as Nate expected it would have gone, he ended it with, “Of course, of course. Yeah. I’ll call you in the morning once I’m up and about. No. No. I’ll be up before then. Yeah. Around nine or so, I’ll be up. Alright, man. I’ll talk to you then. Goodnight.”

He plugged the phone into the charger by the table and sat down on the couch. Margo soon joined him, resting her head on his lap with a satisfied huff. Nate scratched her ears, then behind them, softly, as he scrolled through their options on the television.

“Alright pups. What we watching? Action, adventure, cartoons, history? Animal documentaries? Okay, I’ll find the one with the penguins you like oh so much. There you go.”

The two of them settled in for the night. Both with dreams filled of Arctic wastes, and frozen trees, and snappily dressed flightless birds that were oh so very polite to one another. Nate learned before passing out that they mated for life, all it took was one shiny rock. He liked that. He liked that a lot.

Nate woke up during the night. Remembering fragments of feeling a chill in his fingers and legs. Of the biting, stabbing sensations of climbing a frozen tree. Something about the tree itself seemed so familiar. He had seen it before, he was sure of it, somewhere. Somewhere, recently at that. If only he could recognize from where…

Barking from near the back door pulled him up and onto his feet. He could hear a tail wagging with urgency and impatience, hitting the chair near the door that held miscellaneous things. Whap, thump, whap, thump. Bark, bark!

“Alright. Alright, I’m coming, I’m coming. Out you go now, pups. And don’t come back till you’re done this time. Christ, it’s still early out. What time is it even?”

Margo zipped out into the early morning darkness and vanished into fenced-in parts beyond Nate’s reckonings. The sun had yet to rise above the edges of the world. Sunlight was so far and long off that the overhead darkness still held a deep blue sheen within it. Clouds eased themselves on by within the failing moonlight above everything that Nate could make out in the night. There were faint smells of rain in the air, as well as the soft caresses of humidity that followed doggedly after it. If he hadn’t known better, or was much more tired than he was, Nate would have thought the sky was an ocean. Just sitting there, just above him, and the clouds were the rolling sea foam that chased after the waves crashing upon the sky’s shores.

According to the digital clock in the kitchen, it was a little after four-thirty, again. “Again, with the early mornings.” Nate yawned and stretched, some of his joints woke up amongst themselves with crackling sounds, making him feel more like an old man than a miserable young one.

Once Nate let the dog back inside, he curled back onto the couch and changed the channel to an old movies station. More so for the soft music that older movies played than the plot or the overacting that you’d expect from anything before the nineteen seventies. Something was playing already, something he’d never heard of it had Vincent Price in it. So that was pretty cool. A handful of strangers were trapped in a building; it was probably haunted if he had to guess, just from the movie’s score. Haunting and slow, with some quick jabs of brass instruments tossed into the pit, for good measure. There would probably be a speech about a murder and ghosts soon enough.

“What do you think? Haunted house, or no?” Margo, she just yawned and huffed under the blankets beside him. “Fair enough. More ghost for me then. Good night, pup.” Nate yawned again.

He dreamed again of being lost among the branches of a frozen tree. This time the world was filled in with black and white undertones, mirroring the shaded sun in the sky that loomed above. Everything, yet oddly enough, felt controlled, nearly sequenced into being, along and orderly in an organized fashion that was narrated by the soft tinkling noises that would seep out of the ivory keys of a piano. There was nothing to fear here. And as such he climbed up the tree’s twisted branches. All without fear, or any kind.

Only when he thought that he may fall, did Nate then wake back up.

Chapter Three

0 Comments