The Mass, page 7
As I watch the bread turn crisp inside the toaster oven, I think about how long it will take for Wesley Dover to have his own Wikipedia page. It’s all I thought about last night. It’s all I dreamt about too.
Do all mass murderers have their own Wikipedia page?
How many victims have their own Wikipedia page?
Not even the police officer who took down Allen Timberlee got his own Wikipedia page, and he was a hero.
I understand Gracie’s anger now. The perpetrators are glorified on the web, while the victims get #thoughtsandprayers then silence. But the silence doesn’t just come from the White House or the NRA. It’s everywhere and everyone.
How many people, besides the people of Coors, care about the Coors shooting anymore? It happened a little over two years ago. I vaguely remember hearing about it on the news, but it was also during a time when Morville had been struck by a tornado and two people died, so we were dealing with our own tragedy. Have we become that numb to mass shootings?
Until it happens to you…
Yet I’m still numb. Maybe if I had been there and survived, then I would feel something.
I add butter and raspberry jam to my toast. Jojo slobbers and pants as I sit by myself at the kitchen table. Dad is still in bed. He’s always so exhausted by the weekend that he sleeps through most of it.
After breakfast, I return to my room to see if Maya has signed on. It’s only eight o’clock. Even though I stayed up until two in the morning reading articles, I’m wired to constantly wake early. I have nothing planned for the day. There aren’t any more funerals to attend, and graduation has been postponed to the end of June to give people more time to mourn.
I need to stop by the Animal Hospital at some point to walk Samantha. Another doctor comes in for the weekend, but he doesn’t give Samantha much attention other than her food and water. I don’t understand why Dad doesn’t bring Samantha home for the weekends. Jojo wouldn’t mind, too much.
I shower, shave, and comb my hair, which is getting thicker and longer every day. I imagine what I’d look like dressed as Aladdin. Would Maya find me attractive?
Would I find Maya attractive?
There were several articles about the Coors shooting, but I’m sure Maya didn’t want me to read through the memorial pages. Coincidentally, both our shootings had nineteen victims. Twenty if you include the killer.
Of the nineteen killed at the concert, most were adults. I skim through the profiles of each, trying to see if any of them could be related to Maya.
Anthony and Marilyn Floros. Husband and wife. Died protecting their daughter, Maya, who was injured during the concert.
Her name is Maya Floros.
I ignore the individual photos of Anthony and Marilyn and zoom in on Maya. She is Princess Jasmine. Everything about her radiates babe from the length of her neck to her smoldering brown eyes. Her hair is down to her waist, thick, wavy, and black, just like mine. She may be paler than a vampire in quarantine, but so what? Those eyes could melt/destroy/fuck diamonds. Her arms are muscular and those shoulders, damn. Gymnast? Weightlifter? Will she answer if I ask?
I look down.
I have a boner.
Then she messages me.
LookingForMyLostSock: did u sleep?
Kicked123: Eventually. You?
LookingForMyLostSock: like a baby
Kicked123: Nice.
LookingForMyLostSock: what r u doing today?
Kicked123: I need to go walk a dog. And figure out questions to ask that you’ll actually answer.
LookingForMyLostSock: u can ask whatever u want
LookingForMyLostSock: if i dont want to answer i wont and then we move on
I can’t move anything at the moment. Now that I’m talking to her, it’s getting even worse. I haven’t gotten hard in forever. Not after what Anna put me through. And then the massacre. There’s no room for arousal in any of those situations.
Kicked123: I saw a picture of you.
LookingForMyLostSock: u found the memorial site?
Kicked123: Yes.
LookingForMyLostSock: its an old pic so dont get too excited
Too late for that.
Kicked123: What’s your sport? Do you have one?
LookingForMyLostSock: i used to be a gymnast
Kicked123: Did you quit?
LookingForMyLostSock: i had no choice
Kicked123: How come?
LookingForMyLostSock: not answering that
Kicked123: Okay. Are you an only child?
LookingForMyLostSock: technically no
Kicked123: Technically?
LookingForMyLostSock: brother died a few hours after birth
Kicked123: I’m sorry.
LookingForMyLostSock: he had kidney problems and parents wouldnt abort him
Kicked123: They knew he would die?
LookingForMyLostSock: basically
Kicked123: Were your parents really religious?
LookingForMyLostSock: methodists
Kicked123: What about you?
LookingForMyLostSock: atheist
Kicked123: Always or just recently?
LookingForMyLostSock: always
Kicked123: Same.
I’m pretty sure my mom was raised Catholic, but the second she came to the states, she forgot about God.
LookingForMyLostSock: what about your dad?
Kicked123: Same. We never talk about religion.
LookingForMyLostSock: pretty boring topic
Kicked123: I don’t find it boring. I just don’t get anything from it. It doesn’t make sense to me. I was raised to believe in science.
LookingForMyLostSock: science makes sense!
Kicked123: But evolution and things exploding in space sound weird to me. I think there’s a much simpler explanation for everything.
LookingForMyLostSock: life is better when I dont have to explain and just do it
Kicked123: I hate having to explain. Especially right now. Everyone keeps pressuring me to do things I don’t want to do. And then when I say no, they ask why and get angry as if I owe them something.
LookingForMyLostSock: u dont owe them shit just do what u want to do
I take a deep breath and stretch my fingers against the keyboard. If there’s any emotion to be felt right now, it’s guilt for wanting to escape.
But I feel no shame in telling Maya.
Kicked123: I’d like to get out of here.
LookingForMyLostSock: and go to fantasy land?
Kicked123: I haven’t made my decision yet. I have to talk to my dad first.
LookingForMyLostSock: u r 18
Kicked123: It doesn’t matter. I live with him so he needs to know where I’m going.
LookingForMyLostSock: will he be cool with this?
Kicked123: I might have to lie a bit.
LookingForMyLostSock: about?
Kicked123: I would have to make it seem like I know you. That we’ve met before.
LookingForMyLostSock: why does that matter?
Kicked123: I don’t know if it will matter. But it might matter.
LookingForMyLostSock: tell him this instead
LookingForMyLostSock: the founder of the online support group invited u to fantasy land to vacation with other victims
LookingForMyLostSock: to share love and support
LookingForMyLostSock: cost is covered because u won a raffle
Kicked123: That’s not a bad idea. He is the one that encouraged me to join this site.
LookingForMyLostSock: perfect!
Kicked123: Let me talk to him first before I give you my answer. How long will we be gone?
LookingForMyLostSock: wednesday til ????
Kicked123: So I have to let you know by Tuesday?
LookingForMyLostSock: or sooner so i can book
Kicked123: When’s your birthday again?
LookingForMyLostSock: monday i get my inheritance
LookingForMyLostSock: its huge so dont worry about paying for anything
Kicked123: That’s good. Because I don’t have much money in the bank right now.
I idiotically bought Anna a super expensive necklace for Valentine’s Day, which she didn’t offer to return to me after we broke up.
LookingForMyLostSock: u can have whatever u want if u promise me a few things
Kicked123: Which are?
LookingForMyLostSock: remember that chinese proverb?
Kicked123: Yeah?
LookingForMyLostSock: no love and no sorrow
Kicked123: Are you worried I’m going to fall in love with you?
LookingForMyLostSock: not in fantasy land
Kicked123: So I can fall in love with you afterward?
LookingForMyLostSock: no!
I’m joking, but a part of me wishes it could be real. That I could find something or someone to love again. But Maya is not a candidate for that. So I best forget about love and sorrow. Just as she said. My goal is to be happy, right?
Kicked123: I promise I won’t fall in love with you. EVER.
LookingForMyLostSock: i dont do drama no tears no nothing
Kicked123: I haven’t cried since my mom left.
LookingForMyLostSock: good!
Kicked123: I guess so.
LookingForMyLostSock: it will be fun just let me know how the convo with dad goes! gotta run bye!!!
I check my phone. I have a couple of nasty messages from Anna and one from Luka, the kicker of the junior varsity team.
Luka: Look what this guy wrote!
I click the link. Someone on Twitter posted a picture of our varsity team with Xs across all the players, except for me. I’m circled with the caption, “Missed one!” The guy who posted doesn’t have a profile pic or any followers, which means he created the account simply to be cruel. Likely, his account will be suspended in the next hour. But the comments have already gotten out of control. Most people are giving him heat, but some agree with him, adding in stuff about our team being stuck up and a bunch of rednecks. So we live in a cow town and some of the players were cocky, but does that warrant their death? Hell no.
And what about me? Why would they target the lone survivor? To make me feel guilty? To make me depressed? To make me want to end myself?
I don’t want to be known as the survivor. I don’t want to be known as the one who got away—the one who lucked out. I didn’t ask for those titles. I would have gladly accepted Player of the Year, but now too much baggage goes with it.
I stop reading before my head spins loose and send Luka a quick text.
Me: Just ignore it. People are assholes.
Luka immediately writes back.
Luka: Can’t. People are dying because of assholes.
And there goes my boner. Well, at least one problem has been solved this morning.
****
Around ten o’clock, I head to the hospital to walk Samantha. After which, I take her home. She is overjoyed to be in a car again, wagging her giant tail in my face as she sticks her head out the window. I wish things such as car rides excited me as much as they excite a dog. Dogs are forever young.
Jojo barks nonstop when I bring Samantha inside. And Samantha whines and cowers behind me, scared of little Jojo. All the racket causes my dad to finally wake up. He grumbles into the kitchen wearing his blue bathrobe and Where’s Waldo? glasses.
“Why is Samantha here?” he asks.
Always why.
“She shouldn’t be in a crate all the time,” I say. “She needs more exercise.”
“Daniel, we can’t have two dogs here.”
“We can until she’s adopted. Look, she and Jojo are already starting to get along.” To the point of not making any noise. Jojo gives us the googly-eyed “am I being replaced?” look.
“Fine. Then perhaps we should work on getting her adopted.” Dad turns on the coffee maker. “Did you eat yet?”
“Yes.”
He opens the refrigerator. I used to make biscuits with gravy every Saturday morning. I bet he misses that. He opts for toast.
“I’d like to talk to you about something,” I say, sitting at the table. Jojo rubs her nose against my leg, her cue to be picked up. As I hold her in my lap, she growls at Samantha who lingers nearby. Samantha hides behind my chair.
“What is it?” Dad asks, sniffing all the jars of jam to figure out which one to pick, though he typically goes for raspberry.
“You know how I joined that online support group?”
“Yes?”
“Well, they had this uh, raffle thing for a vacation to Fantasy Land, and I kind of won.”
Dad’s eyebrows shoot so high they look like black arrows. “Really?”
“Yeah. But the trip is soon.”
“How soon?”
“Like next week soon.”
“For how long?”
“I can’t remember the exact timeline. A week or so.” A week sounds about right.
“And is it just you that won?”
“I won the free trip. But other people are going from the support group. It’s kind of like a bonding experience, for us to connect and share our stories. I’m hoping it’ll help me.”
Dad nods his head. “Well, you don’t need to ask for permission. If you want to go, you should go. Just be safe.”
Really? It’s that easy for him to be okay with me leaving? Only two weeks after the massacre? Is he that static from everything?
“You’re not worried?” I ask.
“Why would I be worried? People go on vacation all the time.”
“After what happened here, you’re not concerned about something bad happening to me?”
“Have I ever been one to overly fret about bad things happening to you?”
“No, you’ve been pretty chill.” Calmest parent on the block.
He removes the slightly burnt toast from the oven and loads it with raspberry jam. Both dogs sniff their noses in the air. Dad nods while pouring coffee, likely formulating another perfect round of dialogue.
With a deep breath in and out, he sits at the table and begins. “I don’t fret about bad things happening because I know they’re bound to happen. Even when all precautions are taken. The only thing I can control is how I handle each situation. In this case, I will encourage you to do whatever is necessary to ensure you have a successful future. I know you don’t want to think about college or football right now, but you do have a full ride waiting for you. It’s yours for the taking. You may think it doesn’t matter right now, but it will someday, especially if you decide later on in life to go to school. College debt is no joke. I just finished paying mine off, and I’m forty-five years old.” He finally bites into his toast, jelly falling off the edges.
“I understand.” But I don’t want to talk about it. “I just wanted to make sure it was all right. Me leaving for a while.”
“It’s more than all right. I hope it helps you.” He sips his coffee. “But Samantha can’t stay here while you’re gone. She’ll have to go back to the hospital. And I’ll have to arrange for someone else to walk her while you’re gone.”
“Okay,” I say, petting Samantha’s furry head. Jojo growls. I pet Jojo too and notice she is wheezing. “Hey, is this normal?”
Dad glances once at Jojo before getting up for more coffee creamer. “For a fourteen-year-old dog, yes that’s normal.”
He could have given me another perfect round of dialogue, possibly explaining what was going on with Jojo, but he opted for the safe route. I know Jojo is old and slowing down. She’s not going to be around much longer. But just how long?
I give Jojo a little extra squeeze, remembering when I got her. I was four years old. Christmas Day, Mom surprised everyone with a puppy. Dad said nothing of it, which meant he wasn’t okay with her going behind his back. But Dad grew to appreciate and love Jojo.
Do I love Jojo? Am I capable of love anymore?
Maya
I’m high when Dawn surprises me with an afternoon visit. She’s wearing yoga pants, and her hair is in a messy bun, which means she probably came straight from the gym. Her nostrils flare when she steps inside. “Have you been getting high?” She immediately turns on one of the ceiling fans.
“Grams won’t be home until tomorrow.”
“You need to air this out now. Gross. How can you even breathe?”
“Pretty well actually.”
Dawn opens one of the windows then proceeds to Febreze the entire apartment. I eat chips and lounge on one of the armchairs, watching her enter “big cousin” mode. She washes the dishes in the sink and throws out the garbage. She can’t have a conversation until everything is perfect, which means she has something big to say. Or she just wants the place cleaned up before Grams returns, which is equally lame. It’s not even her grandmother.
“There,” she says, finally sitting down. By the amount of sweat coating her forehead, she looks like she did an additional workout.
“So?” I lean back into my chair, stretching my arms overhead.
“I came over to first of all say, don’t ever do that again.”
“Do what?”
“What you did to me last night. You scared the shit out of me.”
“I was fine. I just went to Starbucks. And then I took an Uber home.”
“You went to Starbucks? For what? They don’t put whiskey in their coffee.”
“Chips. But whiskey would be an excellent addition to their menu.”
Dawn smirks and folds her arms across her chest. “Secondly, I’m here to talk about next week.”
“What about next week?”
“Your birthday.”
“You wanna make me a cake?”
Dawn rolls her eyes. She means business today. “You haven’t told anyone your plans yet. We all know you’re finally cashing in on your inheritance. And it’s well over a million dollars. Plus, you’ll have control over your parents’ estate, which is worth a shit ton as well. Just exactly what do you plan to do with all that money?”
“Why is it anyone’s business?”
“Because if you plan on moving away, we need to know.”
“Why?”
“So we can keep track of you.”
“Keep track of me?” I laugh and toss my empty bag of chips toward the coffee table, but it slips off the edge.
Frustrated, Dawn carries it to the kitchen trash can. “My mom and dad are really worried about you. You’ve been under your grandmother’s care for two years, but after Monday, you’re an adult.”
