Scarab

I held my breath and clenched my toes while Ellie stood in the bathroom. She was bent over the counter, rinsing her face under the faucet’s cold waterfall. In the dim glow of a sconce light halfway unscrewed from its mount on the wall, I could see an unusual contour around her hips and the base of her spine. There was something off-putting about the sight, the deathly topography of her bones, pressing outwards against the pale skin that stretched too tightly around her figure. In that moment I felt disgusted with myself. I felt dirty. The allure of a woman now lay knotted and rotting at my feet. There was always this disgust afterwards, like the sandbags of gluttony in one’s stomach after eating in excess. 

Ellie cupped water in her hand and brought it down to her crotch. The towel under her feet drank up spillage falling over the side of her palm and the thin streaks running down her legs. To me it seemed that she had already left the room, and I was alone once again, letting the ceiling fan spin cool waves towards me, drying the sweat that had travelled down from my neck. 

“Are you sure it broke?” Ellie called out from the bathroom. She looked at me in the mirror’s reflection, sprawled out like a starfish on top of the sheets. I wanted to pull them up to my chin like I used to as a child when I felt afraid.

“Yeah, I’m positive,” I responded.

Her eyes left me and fell on her own image. She took a few deep breaths, and even from a distance I could tell she was fighting back the salty advance of tears. 

I needed a cigarette badly, but I feared that fleeing to the balcony now would only come off as insensitive. She would wind up feeling even more alone than she did standing there, staring at her sickly figure hunched over in anguish, wet hair clinging to the sides of her face and the ridge of her collarbone. 

“Look, I’m gonna need a fifty,” she said. 

“For what?” I asked. I sat up in bed as she turned to slink towards me. 

“The pill,” she responded. Ellie was nice, I determined then. She didn’t attack me with her words. She didn’t seem to blame me, or show any signs of resentment. In reality, she had no idea who I was, no foresight of the disaster I carried along wherever I went.

I never touched her again. My fingertips were afraid of how cold her skin would feel. There was some part of me that believed she might drag me into the icy waters that she continued to swirl around in. 

We laid in bed next to one another for what seemed like an eternity. The silence was heavy, the separation absolute. Finally, I spoke up.

“I’m broke right now. You’ll have to give me some time to get the money sorted out,” I said, looking as far away from her as I could. 

“James. There’s not much I can give you. I mean, this is a pretty time sensitive process. You know?” She spoke without a drop of poison in her voice. It was soft, and quite sweet. I wanted her to be angry with me, to explode and scream and try to hit me. That way, I could simply throw her out of the apartment, leaving her alone to scavenge the fifty dollars. 

“Before sundown tomorrow. I got you,” I said. Neither of us believed it. I swore I could hear a mechanical whir permeating her skull as she assessed where else to find the money. 

The brakes let out a horrible shriek into the morning air as I maneuvered my piece of shit Corolla against the curb. It was the type of car who’s exclamations of decay turned the heads of any affluent residents who were out on the street walking dogs or collecting newspapers. There were landscaping trucks parked in front of every house. To my right, a group of workers gathered on collapsed cardboard palettes over the perfect, green grass. They took a brief rest from the dense heat of the Texas afternoon, running rags over their faces to soak up the perspiration. I stepped out of my car and quickly scanned the block in my peripheral vision, hoping to avoid any contact with the neighbors and their snobby Anglo Saxon desire to poke around in other families’ affairs. Though, I risked an encounter for a few extra seconds of savoring the pungent air. The perfume of flowers and fertilizers drizzled in honey wafted along humid air currents to my nostrils. It was a beautiful smell, distant from the putrid sewer stench of financial ruin. 

The front doorway loomed over me, a great oak frame with an arch of glass panelling around the edges. It was a dark shrine to the past I had left behind so many years ago with a fifth of whiskey in my veins and an impending DUI case. I peeked in through the glass and looked for any signs of activity inside. The house remained still.

Under a plastic rock, the spare key sat right where it always had, sleeping in its dark cave. I unlocked the front door and stepped into the foyer, where the beads of perspiration that had surfaced on my forehead shrank away from the chilling touch of conditioned air. It smelled of pine and lavender. The high ceiling produced one central chandelier, catching rays of sunlight and bouncing them in every direction. I made my way across the living room towards one of the staircases. The sound of footsteps echoed down with creaks and thuds from the second story, sending my heart flying to the back of my throat. I slithered into the living room, and waited for whoever was making their way down. 

Juanita, the maid, stepped out from the butler’s passage. She was startled by the sight of me, her eyes widening in recognition of a ghost that had stumbled back into the house. 

“Mr. James! I don’t know you were coming,” she said in fractured English, eyes still stretched open too far. 

“Yeah, hey. It’s nice to see you. I just need to grab some of my things from upstairs,” I said, shuffling past her. 

“Your parents left for work already,” she said. 

“They don’t need to know I’m here,” I replied.

The first attempt to escape Juanita’s presence was a failure. She pedaled backwards to reinsert herself in my path, letting out a string of theatrical sighs. I began to grow tired of her opposition. This was a rehearsed dance, back and forth between us any time I dropped in for an unscheduled pick up. She was somehow always worried about losing her job, as if my parents would pin suspicion on her after something vanished from their home. Through fifteen years of service, sporting a record cleaner than bleach, Juanita had made her integrity indisputable. And yet, there she stood, between me and the base of the stairs.

“Please,” she said. 

I pushed past her, and proceeded onwards with no remorse. The stairs seemed to sink much deeper under my feet than I remembered. I climbed up to the second story and Juanita stood below, watching the specter ascend with her fingers pressed against the sacred heart pendant that hung around her neck. 

Veins of charcoal and cobalt glimmered all across the marble flooring in the master bathroom. My sneakers left chalky prints on the pristine surface underneath them, and I wondered if I should pass a towel over my wake to eliminate the traces. The maid would probably take care of that. That was her job after all. She worked for a living instead of cutting corners like me.  

My mom’s closet was on the right. She had a double walk-in, housing shelves full of designer clothing, shoes, and most importantly, jewelry. She kept the jewelry in the back, and as I began to peruse a selection of jade earrings, I noticed a framed photograph sitting just above them. There I was, with a smile full of braces in my eighth grade football uniform. The darkness had yet to take hold inside me, and my eyes beamed forwards, unburdened. A painful weight hung in my chest but I snapped my attention back to the earrings before giving it another thought. The jade pieces sat next to diamond, alongside a host of other jewels. Earrings were not going to cut it, however, and neither would a bracelet or a necklace. The score had to be something bigger. 

From the bottom drawer, I uncovered a silver scarab with breathtaking gem stones planted in scale formation over its back. These stones drank the light of the overhead fixtures and shimmered from within, emitting brilliant colors. I looked deep into the scarab’s armor of jewels and observed small galaxies floating inside. This would have to do. 

After dropping the scarab into a moleskin jewelry bag, I returned to the living room, where Juanita was massaging her forehead with two fingers. She started firing off questions, but I hastily brushed past her and flew out the door.

Buffalo Pawn Shop held down the corner of Westheimer and Shepherd, on a sunbaked concrete lot that always seemed to sweat in the summer heat. The aged brick walls desperately held on to a coat of yellow paint from years past. I ran my hand along the uneven surface, walking with a newfound swagger to the barred glass door and its ornamental neon signs. We Buy Gold! Fair Appraisals! The words were screaming in my head.

Junior stood behind the counter with his leathery palms laid out flat. He scowled at me as I approached, revealing a number of gold teeth crookedly planted among the others. 

“Nope. Not happening,” he said, without even the courtesy of a greeting. 

“I got something for you Junior,” I pleaded.

“Not interested. That Rolex you brought in last time was a fake. What kind of a fucking business do you think I’m runnin’ here?” he spat, gold teeth ablaze in anger. 

“Forget about the watch. Just look at this.” I pulled the scarab out and laid it on top of the moleskin bag. Junior picked it up and examined the jewels, whose mystic shards of light danced across his face. Turning it over in his palm, he let out a low grumble. 

“Stolen?” he asked, shooting a questionable glare at me.

“No sir. That was my grandma’s. She left it in the will,” I said.

Another grumble. Junior continued to rotate the scarab in his hand. He pretended like his walls weren’t broken down, but I could feel the spiritual stones crumbling, as I tried to keep a filthy smile under control. He was all mine, and so was the reserve cash tucked into his register drawer. 

With eight hundred dollars in my hand, I got back into the Corolla and pulled out my phone. There was a text from Ellie. I really need that $50. Please call me. In my mind, I could see her sitting by the phone, waiting for a response. Pain bloomed in the pit of my stomach, like a dark rose opening its petals. I started typing a response, but was interrupted by a tapping on my window. Four tattooed knuckles struck the glass repeatedly. I rolled down the window and Slim rested his elbows on the gap.  

“What’s good James?” he said, reaching in to dap me up.

“Just getting by,” I said, as I tried to discretely push the money out of sight.

Slim studied my face, looking deep into my eyes like he always did. I believed he was mentally ill, and my suspicions were further solidified after hearing reports of him viciously beating homeless men in the street and killing people’s dogs.

“How’s the cash flow lookin’?” he asked.

“Not great right now man,” I said.

“That’s too bad. I just got some premium shit,” Slim said. He was dropping the hook underneath a rippling pond. I could see him doing it, and yet I still found myself swimming in that direction. 

“Care to elaborate?” I asked.

“Oh, I got all your favorite sweets. Powder and pills baby.” Slim smiled with pure menace. The sun glistened around his irises, illuminating the hollow cavity where most people kept their soul. 

I stroked my chin and pretended to sort my priorities, as if the urge to indulge hadn’t already infected every fibre of my being. 

“Name a price then,” I said.

“Six hundred for an even spread,” he said.

For a second, I glanced over at my phone and thought about Ellie, still waiting for a response on the other end. She didn’t stand a chance. The wave had already begun to swell, and its momentum was unyielding. 

By midnight, I had left the planet entirely, to exist somewhere outside of our solar system. It was a proper bender. Slim and a few of his boys were sinking into stained leather couches in the corner of the drag bar we had barged into. German house music pounded against my temples, rattling my vertebrates like a xylophone. I realized that I was sweating profusely, even though I felt exceedingly cold. It wasn’t long before the jitters set in, along with a nasty case of teeth grinding that left a sandy residue on the crest of my canines. The rose in my stomach had stayed, growing more acidic by the hour. It writhed in its dark cavern, sending me in a hurry to the bathroom.  

The stall door flew open and clapped against the wall behind it. Knees buckling, I stumbled over to the toilet, and found myself unable to evade thoughts about Ellie as I rested my face against the porcelain seat. In the water’s reflection was a hopeless boy, and I stared into his bloodshot eyes for minutes without blinking. Neither of us spoke. A blackout was taking hold, turning my memories into vapor.

I left the Corolla on Ellie’s front lawn with the engine running and approached her door. The grass felt soft under my feet. There was something comforting in the absorption of my steps by its spongey surface. The rising sun hit my back and propelled me forward, launching a stiff finger into the doorbell. She was there almost immediately, peering out from a small crack. 

“Ellie…” I mumbled. 

She opened the door all the way and stepped out. Her appearance was different. She looked healthy, more nourished. The sherbet colors of the morning light provoked a glow from her skin. I was struck by her presence, the way she emitted a divine energy, like a woman in the center of a victorian painting. I fell to Ellie’s feet, and began fishing in my pockets. 

“James. What the hell are you doing?” she asked.

My left hand emerged with forty eight dollars in cash, while my right offered up two quarters and a dime. I tucked the bills into one of her slippers and let the coins roll around on her doorstep, rattling to a halt on their sides. With eyes half blinded by the impending daylight, I looked up at her.

“You’re too late,” she said, and then promptly went back inside, closing the door behind her. 

I crawled into the front yard and ran my fingers along the blades of grass while the sun continued to rise. Pastel shades of blood orange were morphing into vivid blues. Birds sang from their perches. Mothers and fathers left for work, beaming with societal contribution. It was the most beautiful morning I have ever ignored.