Ark of the Lost Angels

Fall Colors _{(Credit: Author)}

This is a standalone followup to October Sun, November Seas.

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The spirit of togetherness cannot be beat, especially this year. Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays normally, but being the first year the family is reunited and everyone is in town, and things are the way they should be makes this one extra special. Of course, most of my family is still at home doing all the necessary prep work. Especially when this was all last minute, because now that mom’s back home, everyone is coming into town. Reilly and Justin are putting up some family at their place, and I’m temporarily crashing with Allison to let my room become a second guest room for out of town family.

After my show, I’ve got to make my way over to my favorite venue in town: the Lost Haven. Every year, Martin and I get together with some musicians we know who have come back to town for the holiday. We play a benefit show for local charities, it’s a longstanding tradition which predated us but we took it on ourselves after we graduated high school and we were recommended to the guy who organized it. He ended up getting married and moving permanently to Santa Fe a year and a half later, and Martin and I ended up becoming two of the more senior members of this once-yearly outfit.

For the moment, I’m still on the air. It’s been mostly quiet today, a few callers but just people seeking to shoot the breeze. One of them made a reference to WRKP in Cincinnati’s infamous turkey drop, which I’m sure had about twelve listeners in stitches. But I found it funny, because my parents raised me right.  

“Coming up next, a lesser known cut. You might have heard it in Life is Strange: Double Exposure. Or you might not have. Either way, here’s ‘Lucky’ by Mood Bored. Spelled B-o-r-e-d.” I play the song, mute myself and lean back in my chair at the desk. I just need a few moments of rest, today’s going to end up being like a twenty-hour day. As soon as my eyes close for a moment, two quick knocks at the door and then it swings open.

“Matty, for the love of Christ, how many times have I fucking told you-” I interrupt myself when my girlfriend waves hello with a warm smile. “Allison, what the hell are you doing here? I’m working!”

Somehow in a black winter coat, jeans, and a sparkly gray scarf, she could still be a runway model. At least in my mind. She gives me a smile that melts my heart just a little, “I know, it’s way hot. Listen, your sister called me. There’s been a slight mixup with the turkey, and it got delivered to the wrong house.”

The clock on the desk tells me that I still have to be on the air for a few hours today. I don’t need this.

“Why the hell is this my problem?” I huff.

“Because the rest of your family is neck deep in baking, cooking, decorating, or picking relatives up from the airport and train station.”

A long, uncomfortable, annoyed silence fills the air between us. A quick glance at the board confirms that I am muted, dispelling the knot in my stomach as soon as it begins forming.

“I don’t get why my family doesn’t understand that I am working. I am in this building close to sixty hours a week even when I’m not on the air. Now normally I could duck out in an emergency, but I’ve done that a lot lately. Plus, today, I am literally on the air, and then I am playing a show tonight, again to make money to cover my fair share of all the bills we have.”

“Well, considering I’m eating that turkey too tomorrow, figure something out so we can put our recently minted detective skills to good use.”

I text the aforementioned Matty. Another local boy, still in his undergrad. He normally only has one show a week, but I’m willing to give him a chance because he’s the only other person with any on-air experience working today. He pops into the booth in short order. Average height, skinny build, looks like he hasn’t slept in a week with an overeagerness to please, Matty is an annoyance on his average days but he’s entertaining as hell on the air. I’ll be dead before I tell him that, though.  

“Matty, I need you to do me a huge favor. I’m about to turn the reins over to you for the rest of my block because I have an emergency to take care of. I know you only have one show a week, and it’s normally in the middle of the night, so remember that you’re on daytime and adjust your self-censorship accordingly. Keep the music choices simple, I have a playlist which I’ll share with you to pull from. I know you like your weird shit at night, but this timeslot has a much bigger audience. And if you think about it, plug the show at Lost Haven if you can, it means a lot for the local causes.”

“Aye aye, skipper.” He completes it with a salute and a smug grin.

I rub my forehead. “Oh dear Jesus,” I mutter under my breath before addressing him directly, “I told you, enough with the skipper shit.”

His mood instantly deflates, and his gaze drops to the speckled and frayed industrial carpet on the floor which hasn’t been updated since 2003. “Right, sorry Casey.”

I hit a few keystrokes to share a copy of my playlist with his profile and then log myself out of the software so he can’t fuck up my settings at all. With that, I stand up and gesture for him to take the chair. I clap him twice on the shoulder in reassurance.

“You’ve got this Matty, do me proud.”

He nods wordlessly and turns to the console. I grab my bag and follow Allison out of the booth. I call Martin almost immediately. He picks up as we get outside and Allison leads us to her car. I walked to work today because the weather is still not completely freezing and getting fresh air at least some part of my day is good when I’m inside as stuffy radio studio for hours on end. Especially at this time of year when the sun sets so early, I get to enjoy the sunlight in the mornings at least.

“MG-42, what’s good my dude?” I greet him still in my radio voice.

“Don’t do the nicknames, you suck at them,” he deadpans, “What do you need? I’m busy.”

“I need you to go to my house, pick up my gear, and go get it set up for me at the place.”

“C’mon Casey, you’re pulling this shit again? Already? What could possibly be more important today?”

“Do you want to eat turkey for dinner tomorrow night?”

A beat of silence.

“I’m on my way.”

“Thanks,” I trail off, realizing that by the time I started speaking, he had already hung up. “You fuckin’ punk.”

“Come on babe, we don’t have all day,” Allison grabs my hand and pulls me onward.

Allison does a poor job explain what Reilly tried to tell her, so I just call my sister instead.

“Riles,” I greet.

“What’s up? Can’t talk, it’s crazy busy.” My sister is out of breath, probably from running around all day. I hear my parents bickering in the background, and can’t help but roll my eyes.

“What’s up with the turkey?” I ask.

Reilly tells me the story about how when she looked at the box with the turkey which was delivered from Gray & Sons, our favorite local butcher, it was addressed to the Carson house on the other side of town. Mom made a phone call to the family, turns out they have our turkey, but nobody else can go over and get it. Hence me getting pulled out of work, again, to handle it. At the very least, the only person in their household with a working car right now can swing by our house on the way back from running errands today to pick up their turkey, so we can just go straight there to get ours back.

“Sorry dude,” Reilly offers sympathetically, “I wish there was another way.”

“Nah, it’s all good, man, thanks for trying. Love you, see you soon.” I think I manage to sell not being bothered by it, when in actuality, my face is already heating up and my free hand has already clenched into a fist. Without me noticing.

“Love you too, later lil bro.” My sister hangs up.

I take a deep breath while Allison weaves through the streets. The town’s relaxed atmosphere ahead of the holiday does not travel into the car where I stare blankly ahead, unable to focus on anything in front of us. The previously avoided knot in my stomach comes back with a vengeance, and a drop of sweat appeared on my brow at some point in the last several minutes of a silent drive without me noticing. I wipe it away, and catch a glimpse of my scowl in the side mirror.

Now Playing: “Black Sheep” – Metric

“SON OF A BITCH!” I bellow. My girlfriend doesn’t even flinch. She probably expected it. Or thought about worse in her head. Paige Carson and Allison Graves never got along.

Paige Carson was my girlfriend once. She went to Bishop like me, and both being local kids, we clung to each other. Neither of us were in a great place when we started college, and most of our support systems had moved away. Or in my case, was Martin. We never got along in high school, mostly because we were in different cliques. She and Martin still hate each other to this day. Actually, Martin has hated most of the women I’ve dated, except Allison. Maybe he had it figured out.

Paige was a cheerleader, and I got the sense that she dated me because of a lack of identity. Having the musician boyfriend around campus made her cool when she was no longer at the top of the pecking order. Points for personal growth. Eventually the familiarity of being hometown kids in a sea of new faces that made us cling to each other for a while wore off and we fought. I was a jackass, she didn’t communicate. We were both not great to each other.

Facing each other is not exactly my idea of great pre-holiday fun.

“I hate her,” Allison mutters about our former classmate and my ex-girlfriend. Allison was marked as one of the ‘weird’ kids when we were younger, despite being insanely intelligent, decently stylish, and very socially adept. I don’t know why she actually got the label, kids and teenagers are just dumb, I guess. But it hung around her neck, and Paige used to be a real pain in the ass about it.

“Look, we have to be nice. Just get the turkey back. I’m not wild about facing her either,” I state, staring out my window at the stately Victorian houses of the neighborhood so she can’t see my scowl which has only gotten worse. That’s another thing about Paige which sparked animosity: Paige’s family was always a bit more well-to-do. The fact that she went to Bishop, not from need or active desire, but just because she couldn’t make up her mind about life at the time was seen as a great shame for her family. She ended up getting her master’s at Northwestern, but I don’t know what she studied there.

Nor do I care, frankly.

Allison pulls up in front of the Carson house. It’s a two-story Victorian with yellow siding and a dark autumn red door. It’s really a pleasant house to be in, but I really hope her parents aren’t home. Paige got her undercurrent of condescension from good old mommy dearest, and I’m already in a foul mood. Bailing Allison out of jail for assault and battery on a middle-aged bitch would not improve that mood at all.

The pleasant November weather today turns an unfortunate kind of cold, though maybe it’s due to my skyrocketing blood pressure. Who the fuck knows. I nonchalantly turn away so my back is to the door the moment Allison rings the doorbell.

“Fucking bitch,” Allison mutters under her breath before the door opens.

‘Be nice,’ I mouth to her. She shoots me a dirty look but snaps off of it before my ex shows up.

“Hi,” Paige draws out her single word greeting to last for several painfully awkward seconds. She looks good, auburn hair without a strand out of place and freckles on full display. The narrowing of her eyes towards Allison gives her the cold air she always possessed when the two of them interacted.

“Hey, uh, Paige.” My voice lacks any and all confidence. I regularly perform in rooms of a few hundred people, sometimes more at some campus events. I just faced down improbable odds to find my missing mother after five years missing. Still, somehow, facing my ex from freshman year of college feels like the most challenging event of the year.

“Casey, you look good.” She pointedly ignores Allison, “What brings you by?”

My patience has officially run out. I clench my fist and open my mouth to chew Paige out for being rude when Allison cuts me off.

“So, the delivery guys screwed up and swapped our turkeys. I think your dad is able to swing by the Adams house to get yours, so we came by to get our turkey. Thanks!” Allison is putting on the overly cheerful fake politeness I know means she’s about twelve seconds from ripping Paige’s throat out with her teeth, vampire style.

“I don’t think I can lift it,” Paige sighs, twirling her hair around her finger. As if she couldn’t be any more transparent.

Again, I go to open my mouth to respond when Allison’s voice interrupts.

“I’ve got it. No problem.”

I seldom see this type of one-upmanship from dudes, it feels totally out of character for my girlfriend. The honey floorboards creak as Paige leads us into the kitchen down the entry hall. I think the floors are original in most of the house, at least that’s what her mom said the last time I came over for dinner. Which was like two weeks before we broke up, summer before junior year of college.

Despite Allison trying to show off, I grab the turkey and walk it out to the car, with Paige in tow. As Allison pops the trunk, my ex lets of a little giggle. Allison and I both tense up but hold our tongues.

“So, Casey, are you playing tonight?” Paige’s voice is soft and friendly. Of all the possibilities, I think the most likely is she’s trying to screw with me and Allison both as a couple and get us mad at each other. I’ve never been able to quite figure out what the animosity between those two is. All my girlfriend ever told me back in high school was that there was something said at a birthday party when they were kids, and it’s been pure hatred ever since. Grantchester’s such a small town that, like I say that you pick your friends early and stick with them, the same thing happens with your enemies.  

“Yep,” I answer curtly, like it was an afterthought to bother responding at all.

“Maybe I’ll come out and see you guys play,” Paige keeps with the overly friendly crap. She was never even like this when we were dating, so either she started acting like much more of an airhead in Chicago, or she’s really playing it up to get under our skin.

“That’d be great! Any money for the local charities is a good thing.”

“Well, you know I can sweet talk my way in.”

“Not tonight you can’t,” I fix her with a dead stare. It’s the first time in this exchange that Paige stands up straight and tries to look at me on equal footing. I decide to keep talking, trying to turn the tides. “Kelly Sabatino’s playing with us.” I turn sarcastic. “I’m sure it’d mean the world to her if you were there.”

“Oh sick, Kelly’s playing? Love her, haven’t talked to her in ages,” Allison interjects. I can’t tell if it’s serious or just trying to show some love to someone else Paige hates. Kelly was a band kid, therefore, uncool in Paige’s eyes. The more I interact with her and think about my past relationship, the more I question why the fuck I ever dated her in the first place. Maybe I was even more of a mess back then than I realized.

“It was nice talking to you, Paige, thanks for the bird. Gotta get going though,” I aim for polite, come off condescending, and don’t really care. Allison and I hop in the car and head off before she has the chance to respond.

***

Allison Graves

Now Playing: “Warning Signs” by Band of Horses

Paige fucking Carson pisses me the fuck off more than anyone else back from high school. I’m only aware of my white knuckling on the steering wheel when Casey points it out, along with me blowing a stop sign and taking two or three turns too fast. Maybe four.

“What the hell is it with you guys anyways?” Casey asks, the icy tone he used with Paige now is a distant memory. HE reaches over and gently rubs the top of my hand on the steering wheel, and I exhale to let out some of the explosive pressure building in my lungs. I could punch that bitch in her stupid freckled face.

“Oh you know the story,” I try to dismiss him, but my voice cracks. Twice. Goddamnit.

“No, I don’t. I know something happened in like the fifth grade and you two have been at it ever since.” He’s right. The boy is right, I never did tell him the full story.

The truth is, as I relay to Casey, that Paige and I had always been at odds, but it really blew up junior year over something serious. I had been aiming to maintain the honor roll all year for college application essays, but I got ensnared in a plagiarism scandal in one of the classes related to my desired major. It was Paige being a jealous bitch or something that I knew what I wanted to do and she didn’t, but it didn’t matter. I ended up cleared by the administration and my teacher, but I never breathed a word about it when it was going on and it became a non-issue before long. But I couldn’t let it go, and torpedoed Paige’s chances with the first baseman come spring semester, and so the rest of our time in high school was marked by a general distaste for each other.

“Fucking Hell,” Casey groans. “Why did you never tell me this?”

“I didn’t want anyone getting involved. Or worse, going down with me. I bombed like two tests and fucked up honor roll that semester. I’m not sure if it’s why I never got to go to my first choice school, why I got rejected from the big scholarship I applied to, but it definitely affected things.”

“Wait, what was your first choice? You always told me it was Brown, but I knew you were lying cause you never even applied there.”

“Boston College.”

Casey repeats the name and thinks for a moment.

“Wait, you wanted to stay close to home,” he states, not asks. I wince. He’s right.

“Yes,” I squeak.

“Oh Allie, it’s not because you were trying to stay near me, right?”

He’s not right but he’s also not wrong. I had almost made a move on him the summer before senior year, but my parents’ marriage was already disintegrating by that point, and when I blew the scholarship, I didn’t think it would have been fair had I done so and then left for Seattle almost immediately. Our friendship, and any potential future, might have never survived that. But Boston College had the program I was looking for and I fell in love with the school on my visit. Not being able to go was as much a loss for my academic life as it was for my personal life.

“Partially,” I opt for a half-truth. When he presses, I tell him the whole story. He listens quietly, and sits for a few moments as I near his house.

“I’m so fucking glad you came back,” he finally says, pulling my hand gently from the steering wheel to kiss it. The smile which results is involuntary and impossible to get rid of. I pull up in front of his house and sigh.

“Want to get this turkey out of my car?”

He nods and soon enough, it’s sitting on his dining room table. The sounds of his parents bickering over the pie crust come from the kitchen while Reilly is on the phone with Justin trying to coordinate picking up relatives at the airport after a delayed flight. Casey sighs from deep within his soul.

“Hey, since I’m out of work, I’m going to try and help around here,” he can be such the damn boy scout sometimes, “Meet up after the show for diner food with Miracle Martin?”

I laugh from deep within my soul. “Oh God, picked up your dad’s lame nicknames now?”

“I heard that!” comes papa Adams interrupting the fierce debate over a pumpkin pie crust, causing both Casey and I to laugh even harder.

“Take care, rockerboy, see you after your big show,” I kiss his cheek and he squeezes me to him.

“I love you.”

“I know,” I do my best Han Solo impression, which is to say, very terrible.

“Get outta here,” he waves me off with a laugh.

I return to my car and call Jess, who is immediately down to hang out. We blow time at our old favorite coffee shop until it nears time for the show, at which point we make our way over to the Lost Haven. A dignified concert venue which has hosted everything from classical to metal, with stained glass by the entryway and beer stains on the floor, I cannot think of an equivalent. I only ever went to my first show at Lost Haven my junior year of high school. Casey had been going with his mom since like eighth grade. What struck me the most were the ornate engraved metal panels on the walls with musical motifs, and my awe at the craftsmanship which went into making them has not diminished with the years. This place is a piece of Grantchester history, and seeing my boy play it is so damn cool.

“Have you seen them play before?” I ask of my red-headed bookworm friend.

Jess practically bounces. “Oh my God, last Thanksgiving was incredible. I went to go drinking with some of our high school theater peeps who all came back for the holidays, and Kelly Sabatino was like ‘dude, we gotta check out the show’ and I was all ‘what show?’ and she was like ‘the benefit show. Bunch of local musicians all get together to raise money for a few local charities’ and I was like ‘how did I never know about this?’ Anyways, got totally trashed, danced like a madwoman, had an amazing time. Sure beats getting hammered at the usual dives in town and reminiscing about the bad old days.”

“Good to know. By the way, Kelly’s playing tonight. Casey told me earlier!”

“That’s so rad!” Jess bounces again. She hasn’t even had anything to drink yet.

I scoff. “We’re bringing ‘rad’ back into the rotation?”

“Captain Killjoy, don’t kill my buzz!” Jess chastises me.

“You have no buzz! You have no drink!”

“I am about to remedy that fact.” Jess grins and bolts for the bar, leaving me to hold our spot as the crowd grows denser.

Absent Jess, Paige’s stupid face floats back into my head. I didn’t expect to ever see her again, last I knew she was living in Washington DC or Pittsburgh or something. Probably just home for the holidays, but maybe she’s back home permanently, just as lost as I am. I brought up the idea in passing to Jess at the coffee shop, but Jess just threatened to kill Paige and hide the body herself. I think she hates Paige for what happened to me back in high school more than I hate her for it. Mark of a good friend, I guess.

Jess makes her triumphant return with what’s probably a gin and tonic. She does a mock sexy walk up to me making goofy faces, and it dispels the image of Paige’s face and makes me belly laugh. I need that right now.

“You’re ridiculous,” I huff.

“Only way to be,” Jess chirps.

As I deliberate whether to ask Jess for her thoughts on where we are in life, the lights dim and the band walks out. Martin, Casey, and Kelly all take their places alongside a man on keyboards and another on guitar whom I don’t recognize. They’re a fair bit older than me and my friends, and they light into a bunch of classic songs to get the crowd hyped. Even though I don’t drink too much, Jess was right, this is one of the coolest nights I’ve been to. Everyone is focused on being present and having a good time.

Guests cycle in and out. A horn section comes out for a few songs. Local guitarists and percussionists drop in and out for a few songs, sometimes longer. The crowd cheers wildly every time someone new gets introduced, but I don’t know if they recognize any of these people. I sure don’t. But the music keeps going, and the crowd has a great time. I’ll be so sore tomorrow from dancing, but I don’t care. Tonight is way better than getting sloshed at a dive bar with high school people, that’s for damn sure.

“Ladies and gentlemen, here to perform with us tonight, an American Music Awards nominee, all the way from Los Angeles, California, a native daughter of Grantchester, Miss Madeline Worthy!” Casey introduces their latest guest.

She’s a name I actually recognize. Madeline bounds out onto the stage and hugs the other guitarist and the keyboardist. Casey told me about her, she was classmates with those two at Bishop before moving onto greater things. I’ve listened to a few of her songs based on Casey’s recommendations, and she’s the real deal.

They start into a cover of Imogen Heap’s “Just For Now” which feels apropos for the holiday tomorrow. Tomorrow will bring plenty of holiday chaos, but I couldn’t imagine better people to spend it with.

***

Casey Adams

Now Playing: Thanksgiving Theme (Reprise) – Vince Guaraldi Quintet

With an excellent show, and a post-show diner hangout with Jess and Kelly under out belt, the three of us made our way back to good ole Siren Road. Allison’s back porch makes for a convenient place to hang out.

“You know what I’m thankful for?” Martin asks, “I’m thankful for you two. I missed the greatest power trio of all time while you were away, Allison. I’m glad to have you back.”

Allison squeals, and it’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. She can’t fight the gigantic smile blasting its way onto her face. It’s even more adorable when she grunts in annoyance that she can’t shake being excited.

“I missed you too, Martin. You’re a top class dude.”

“As are you,” he fires right back with his characteristic shit-eating grin. I roll my eyes. How I got stuck with the two biggest knuckleheads this side of the Mississippi, I’ll never know. But I’m thankful for these two lunatics being my best friends in the world.

“I’m thankful the show went off without a hitch,” I

“Seriously, when was the last time that happened,” Martin comments.

“I think both of you boys did very well, and I’m proud of you,” Allison offers praise. But I think it’s because she’s still a little buzzed from her adventures with Jess. I had to drive us home in her car.

“I’m thankful for football, food, and family tomorrow,” I state, trying to avoid this turning into a total mush fest. Do I particularly care about the football? No. But I like alliteration, so it stands. And I don’t need Allison crying from happiness and sappiness after the day I’ve had. I’m looking forward to a hot shower and sleep before tomorrow, but the ocean breeze is really nice despite the chill.

Martin obviously feels the same about the fatigue because he lets out a giant yawn. “Damn, it’s been a fun night, but I gotta get some shuteye.”

“See you tomorrow dude,” I toss him a wave as he goes to head out. He actually has to drive over tomorrow, along with the rest of the local family. At least mom’s side are staying with us.

“Football, food, and family!” he calls out as he disappears around the side of the house.

“I dunno, Case,” Allison presses herself against me, “Sounds like a pretty good day to me.”

“I’m really thankful for you, Allison Graves. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m glad you and your mom and Kat are coming for dinner.”

“Please, you think living next door to your parents’ cooking now that your mom is back in town wasn’t going to draw me over for the biggest food holiday of the year? Get real Adams.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” I ruffle her hair.

“I love you too, rockerboy.”

With another successful Thanksgiving eve in the books, I can only wait to see what craziness bringing twenty people together in my house will bring. But tonight, on this porch with my best friends in the whole world, that’s the real meaning of Thanksgiving to me.