How To Disappear Completely Read online

  I toyed with the idea of going to talk to her at her office, but quickly decided against that for obvious reasons. I would just have to wait until she got home from work. With that, I decided to take a trip to Freedman Jewelers downtown and return the ring that I worked so hard to buy. I opened up my top desk drawer, where I kept all the other things that ended up being useless, and shuffled though some things. It wasn’t there. I tried the next drawer, but found nothing but papers and random receipts. The third drawer never had anything to offer, but I looked in anyway. I was getting frantic. No, I thought, you can’t lose the ring. How could you lose the ring? I looked around my desk, the floor. Nothing. I looked in the kitchen through every drawer. Nothing.

  I’d lost my keys before, I had even lost a huge report in college that I had to turn in minutes later, but I had never had such a feeling of loss in my life. It was so terrible that for a moment I considered going back to my long–abandoned Christian faith and pray to St. Christopher, hoping that he’d embrace me once again as his child and help me. It’s amazing how people turn to faith when they need something. If I was going to pray, I might as well have asked the Boogie Man to help me, but of course that just sounded silly.

  I ran through possible locations of where the ring might be systematically, tracing its whereabouts. Clearly I had it at the carnival. I know I put it back in my pocket at the carnival. After we left, we went back to her place. I know I had it when we got there because I put it on the nightstand. On her nightstand. It had to still be at Allison’s and I cringed. I suddenly had another reason to go pay her a visit. This is going to be a fun day, I thought.

  I had to get out and do something. Anything. If I sat in my apartment all day I would go crazy. A walk turned out to be the best choice. I grabbed my ipod on the way out and cued up something that would agree with my mood. The band Blindside. Perfect. I decided to head down Commonwealth Avenue and skip the pompous air of Newbury. I wasn’t in the mood for chic or hip. I just wanted to be alone for a while. If you’ve never walked down Commonwealth Ave then you’re missing out. It’s a magical street.

  I made it all the way through the Commons, passing the duck pond with the paddleboats, hippies, college kids, and tourists. I decided to sit on a bench and rest for a moment. After a minute or two a group of ducks caught my attention. There was a larger duck, probably the father, with about eight little ducklings following him. At first I thought the adult duck might be the mother, but it didn’t seem to have the caring nature that mothers normally have. He walked with a bit too much force to be feminine. The eight chicks walked in a straight line formation behind him, almost as if they were marching. Maybe he’s not the dad after all, I thought. Maybe they were all sent to military school and he was their drill sergeant marching them across the parade grounds.

  As they were passing right in front of me, he must have called “Halt” because they all stopped moving. The dad turned around and quacked a bit at the little ones. I didn’t know what he was saying just yet, but I later realized that he must have said, “Do not go into the water without me.” I know he said this because two of the smaller ones at the back of the line chirped quietly, daring each other to jump in. When the rest of them started marching forward again behind their dad, the two at the back stayed behind and walked up to the edge of the pond. There’s a slight drop of about 6 inches from ground to water without a slope whatsoever. To a little duck it must be like looking over the edge of the Cliffs of Dover. The one proposing the dare was clearly antagonizing the other. The dared one stepped back and forth, shaking his tiny wings, trying to decide the severity of the situation.

  After what seemed like the other one chanting, “Jump. Jump. Jump.” the little guy jumped and plopped without a sound into the pond. They both laughed for a moment until the realization came that he couldn’t get out. He swam back and forth awkwardly at the edge of the pond looking for some sort of a slope to walk back out on. After a few seconds he started screaming in terror. He must have been saying, “Dad, Dad, help!”

  The rest of the group halted again at the dad’s command and he turned his head around to see one of the stray chicks at the edge of the land looking down into the water. The dad didn’t rush, but he turned around and very orderly made his way back to the rebels. The rest of the chicks chatted back and forth falling out of formation.

  The dad peered over the edge and saw the little one flailing in the water trying to find a way out. He quacked once or twice, probably saying “I told you not to go in without me.” He made no attempt to save the little one. He’d have to figure it out on his own. After scolding the one who dared the other to jump in, he gathered everyone back together and they left. The little one in the water was frantic, probably looking about the same as some other species watching me as I looked for the ring.

  The formation of ducks walked away and the littlest one could eventually see them as they neared the edge further down the bank. He swam as fast as his little legs could go and found one of the few slopes down into the pond. He wasn’t welcomed back into the group with a victorious cheer, he just got back in line at the back and went on with what turned out to be a swimming lesson.

  Watching the whole thing unfold was enlightening. The dad wasn’t being mean, he was just teaching his son a lesson–do what I tell you to do. He knew that eventually the little one would find them where he was taking them all. A sub-lesson was that there’s always an answer to a problem. You can always figure out an answer, little one. It was a lesson that all of them would have to learn and so would I. Thanking them silently from afar, I decided to head home. Thanks to the ducks I was ready to put the angry music to bed and put on something a little more playful for the walk home.

  With an oddly renewed sense of vitality and literally a bird’s eye view of my life I walked home and started writing about the show from the night before. It came to me like a dream and was gone just the same. When I finished, I posted it, sent them a message on Myspace and hoped that I’d hear back.

  ?

  The all too familiar walk to Allison’s was darkened by the ominous clouds hanging over both our lives. I felt a surprising calm as I rang her buzzer. I had thought to use my key knowing full well that it would probably be the last time I’d be able to use it, but decided that would be pretty rude, even for me. When the door finally opened, I wasn’t greeted by Allison, but rather by her evil twin who clearly had no intention of playing nice.

  “Hey.” I said.

  “Hey.” She echoed slightly distorting my pleasant tone.

  “So I think we need to talk about some things.”

  “You think?”

  “Well, can I come in?”

  “Sure.”

  Why was she so mad at me? Arguably she was the one more at fault here. We walked into the living room and, as if I had just killed and eaten his little doggie family, the Devil growled and showed his teeth at me. Allison and I sat on opposite sides of her couch that suddenly seemed absurdly long, like the long dinner table at Bruce Wayne’s house where he had dinner with Vicki Vale. I couldn’t say that we sat in silence for any period of time because her stupid dog’s stare and growl was distracting. Allison was the first to speak. “So is she the reason that you haven’t talked to me for the past week?”

  Is he the reason that you didn’t want to marry me? “Actually, no. I haven’t talked to you because I’ve been upset about you not wanting to marry me. That hurt pretty bad you know.”

  “So how long before you found her?”

  “She found me the next night.”

  “Wonderful timing, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yes, well, I was vulnerable, hurt and lonely and she happens to be a nice girl.”

  “Have you slept with her yet?” That’s got to be the most asked question in these scenarios I’d imagine.

  “Yes.”

  She started crying. I gave her a moment to come around and she continued her interrogation. “Did she tell you that we were friends?”


  “Actually, no. I happened to figure that out for myself. Trust me I was pretty angry that she didn’t tell me, but clearly I can understand why she wasn’t planning on it anytime soon.”

  It seemed clear that this was all she had thought of to ask me, so it was time for my opening statements. “How’s everything with… Sascha, right?”

  “Don’t make this about me.”

  “Who else is it about? You know I always had a suspicion that you had a specific reason that you said no, but I never thought it would be another guy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How did you actually meet him, and more importantly, when?”

  She seemed stunned. I can’t believe that she thought Nicole wouldn’t tell me something like that after all of this bullshit. “I heard you’d been seeing him for a while, right?”

  “I can’t believe she told you.”

  “Well, we are dating now and we’re trying to build a relationship based on some semblance of trust.”

  She looked as though she had just been punched in the stomach, unable to speak with no breath in her lungs. As she recovered, I decided to continue. “You know, I actually had some reservations about ending things with you. Nicole could tell you about it if you ever felt like talking to her again.” I went on, “I still loved you very much and hoped that you’d come around and realize how much you needed me too if I wasn’t around for a little while. As it turns out you were probably better off without me, right?” No one in their right mind would ever respond to that question, even though everyone involved always knew the right answer. “So how long have you been seeing him?”

  Her gaze dropped from my eyes to the floor in shame. “About 3 months.”

  “He’s why you said no, right? He’s the reason that you didn’t want to marry me.”

  “Josh, I was just confused about everything.”

  “And yet you’re mad at me for meeting Nicole.” The moment I said it I knew I shouldn’t have. Of course it was the truth, but she would never allow the fault to be pinned squarely on her. We transformed from a sad, broken couple into another bitter battle.

  “Of course I’m fucking mad. She’s one of my best friends and you were my boyfriend!” she screamed while Satan barked as her backup yes man.

  “Even though you’d been cheating on me for the last 3 months? I fail to see how I’m the bad guy here. If you had just said yes to me, then none of this would have happened.” My voice was never raised. I aimed to be the calm, rational one.

  “So you’re blaming me?”

  “Of course I’m blaming you. Who else’s fault would it be?”

  “You’re unbelievable.”

  “Thanks, I hear that a lot.”

  It was getting dumb. Nothing can ever be resolved when people are angry. I decided to get straight to the point.

  “Look. I didn’t come here to fight. I wanted to hear from you that you were in fact with Sascha while we were together, to answer any questions that you may have had about my relationship with Nicole, and to get my ring back.”

  “Your ring?”

  “Yes, if you’re not going to marry me I’d like it back.”

  “You gave it to me.”

  I looked at her puzzled for a moment. “It’s an engagement ring. You didn’t agree to the terms of the arrangement and so I’d like it back please.”

  “I really don’t think I should have to give it back after all of this.”

  “All of what? You said no to me, and what’s more, you cheated on me for three months prior to me even buying the thing–which I might add cost me a lot of money that I really need right now after losing my job.”

  Her eyebrows squinched together and I realized that she had no idea that I had been let go from Starbucks.

  “Yeah, I was fired. I really need it back so that I can return it and maybe eat some food and pay rent.”

  “I don’t think I can give it back to you.”

  It was now my turn to be angry. “What do you mean you can’t give it back to me? I need that ring.”

  “No.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you Allison? Why do you think you deserve it? You’re not worth half of what that ring is worth!” As I punctuated that sentence I started to get up from the chair to head to her bedroom and take it back.

  “What are you doing?” she screamed.

  “I’m getting my goddamn ring back!”

  “Josh, stop it, get out of here. Get out of my apartment!”

  “Not without my ring.”

  I threw things around in her room, pushing objects off her dresser top, opening drawers of her desk and nightstand. I couldn’t find it. This was stupid. Did she just think that she could keep it? What the hell was wrong with her? The constant drone of Allison’s screaming and the evil growl of the Devil dog was a backdrop of sound that would have suited a horror flick. Finally I spotted the small, fuzzy box that contained my unemployment check on her bathroom countertop. Right as I started storming through the bathroom door, the dog ran up behind me and bit my leg. Hard. I didn’t quite fall down, but I screamed out in pain. I tried to shake him off, but his grip didn’t loosen. I turned around and tried to kick Satan in defense, but the angle that he had my leg it, made it impossible to attack with my feet. I never thought I would have to punch anything in my life, let alone a dog, but I clenched my fist and as hard as I could I punched the beast in the side.

  I must have struck some soft spot because he quickly recoiled. With my leg finally free, I reeled it back and kicked him again in the same spot. He teetered on his 3 good legs. “Josh, you sick fuck. Get the fuck out of my house! Now!”

  “Not without my ring.” I grabbed the little box while the dog was still stunned and nearly knocked Allison out on my way out of her bedroom, and rand out the front door. I kept running all the way back to my apartment, without a stop. I thought that bystanders were probably wondering if I had stolen something because I wasn’t in running gear, but the apathetic nature of the general public meant that I’d at least make it home without interference. I wondered why robbers didn’t wear black tear-away clothes with running outfits underneath. If you’re running down the street in athletic gear, no one questions you, but if you’re in civvies, then you’re immediately suspected of something.

  The whole way home, my heart tapped my ribs harder and harder as I ran further, begging me to stop. My leg throbbed with the amplitude and frequency of a Ramones song. I ran up into my room and collapsed onto my bed. I hadn’t run in a long time and my lungs and heart weren’t used to all this cardiovascular activity. I opened my hand with the treasure box that I had rightfully stolen and just looked at it for a moment as my body calmed down. I flashed back to the moment that I decided to ask Allison the big question. I remembered the exciting but terrifying feeling in my gut. I remembered Christopher, the salesman who helped me pick out this perfect ring. I remembered the feeling of accomplishment and dedication when I was finally buying it. I remembered planning the proposal, talking to Greg’s dad and convincing him to keep the carnival open for one final night. Finally, I remembered the feeling when she didn’t say yes.

  It was with that feeling that I opened up the box to see it. It took my brain a few seconds to realize what my eyes were reporting to it… . It wasn’t there. No ring. I waged war on Satan and I didn’t leave with anything to show for it. No signs of victory.

  Chapter 13

  I rolled up my jeans, stained with a mix of dried blood and devil slobber, and kicked off my shoes. The bastard had gotten me just below my calf and dug in hard. I debated going back to the doctor, but decided against it at the thought of how much another set of hospital bills would set me back, especially without the goddamn ring to return. At least he didn’t get my Achilles. I would have had to end up suing Allison for housing a terrorist and I neither had the time, money nor patience to deal with our judicial system. The bleeding had stopped and deciding that it wasn’t worth a trip to the ER, I hobbled over to t
he bathroom. Now that the adrenaline had left my system, I began to feel the pain of the bite with each step, across the hardwood floor all the way to the tiled bathroom.

  I found a nearly empty tube of Neosporin and a few small Band-Aids. Where was I when the rest of this tube of Neosporin was used up, I thought. I couldn’t remember using any of it, let alone a whole tube of the stuff. Carefully I covered each tooth-sized gash with a band-aid. It took six small band-aids to do the deepest cuts. The rest of the teeth weren’t long enough to break the skin, though they did certainly leave a mark. If they could identify a dog from its teeth like they do with humans, my leg could have been Exhibit A in my trial against the heinous dog.

  Not wanting to stew in anger or pain, I quickly called Nicole and asked her if the offer still stood for me to go over that night. “Of course,” she said wondering why I even asked. “I’ll be here, just come on over.” When she asked whether I was OK, I told her that I’d explain everything when I came over.

  Even though I was broke and had no prospects of making money, I decided that I wouldn’t be able to walk the mile or so over to Nicole’s and decided that the five dollar cab ride would be well worth it. Being the tech geek that most in my generation are, I hailed a cab online and got a text message when it arrived two minutes later. Nicole’s address came as easily out of my mind as my own would have. It’s amazing how quickly we get used to new things, places, and people. It’s also amazing how fast you can get places when you take a car. Nicole’s apartment was right outside the car door within 3 minutes, after hitting all green lights with a driver that didn’t believe in speed limits.

  When I buzzed up, she assumed it was me and said, “Well that was fast,” as a way of saying hello. “Come on up.” Of course she didn’t mean it the way I heard it, but to me it sounded like, “Oh great… you’re here already.” The stairs seemed like an obstacle course to me and I realized why I never considered joining the armed forces. I would have been the one at the back of the line that everyone cheered and teased from the finish line, all of them having completed the course. “You can do it, maggot! Get your ass over here with the rest of us or everyone has to do 500 pushups and clean the bathrooms with our toothbrushes!” No, thank you, to that.