Our Kingdom of Dust (16 page)
After Lisa was discharged from the hospital we rented a little apartment in Maryland and lived there for a few months while we searched for our dream home. One day I got a bill, forwarded from Charles, for six more months of rent for the storage facility where all of Jay’s memorabilia was being stored.
I’d completely forgotten about it.
I consulted with a lawyer, who agreed with Jay’s statement that, yes, everything in there was legally mine since it was rented under my name. But I certainly didn’t want that crap. I decided to auction it all off, and put the money in a trust fund for Jay’s three kids, divided evenly between them.
But before I did any of that, I needed to talk to Jay, one final time. Lisa wanted to come, too, and even though I tried to talk her out of it, she insisted. I guess we both needed some closure.
We walked into the visitation room and were escorted to a booth, where Jay sat behind a pane of glass, handcuffed and in an orange jumpsuit. He looked trim and healthy, and had a new brightness in his eyes and complexion.
“Hey, you two,” said Jay, from the other side of the glass. “Didn’t think I’d ever see either of you ever again.”
“Hi Jay,” I said.
Lisa didn’t speak.
“Really happy to see you’re okay, Lisa,” he said.
“Are you blind?” she yelled. “I’m missing a fucking arm you asshole!”
One of the guards took a step towards us.
“It’s okay, she’s fine,” I said.
The guard stepped back again.
“Anyway,” I said to Jay. “I’m not even going to ask how you’re doing in here, because I want you to say you’re miserable, but I know you’re probably loving it.”
Jay shrugged.
“There were easier ways to get back to jail, Jay,” I said. “You didn’t have to hurt your friends.”
“I snapped, Blaine. For a few minutes in that room everything made sense, everything seemed very clear. I’m not trying to justify what I did, but at the time, it seemed like the best way out….” He stopped and turned to Lisa. “I know you don’t believe me, but I am sorry. I’m not a bad guy. You know that. And I never stopped loving you.”
“Jesus,” I said.
Lisa just stared at him. Tears ran down her cheeks.
“Look,” I said, “the reason we’re here is that I need contact information for your ex-wives. I’m auctioning off all of your memorabilia and putting the money in a trust fund for your kids.”
Jay looked down, shaking his head, not saying anything for a good minute.
“Hello? Jay!” I said. “Snap out of it. I need that contact info.”
“Sure, sure,” he said. He motioned to one of the guards on his side of the glass. “Can I get some paper and a crayon?”
He turned back to us. “They won’t let me have pencils or pens. They think I’ll kill myself. Ridiculous.”
The guard brought back the paper and crayon, and Jay spent a few minutes writing down addresses and phone numbers. He gave the paper and crayon back to the guard.
“They’ll have to pass that through security,” he said. “But just give them your address on the way out and they’ll send it to you eventually.”
“Okay, great. Thanks,” I said. “So just to be clear, you understand that we’re selling all of your shit, right? And your kids are getting the money? And you’re cool with that? You’re not going to try to sue us or something?”
“No,” said Jay. “I don’t need any of that stuff anymore. I have a new life here. That memorabilia was all from my old life, where everything was stressful and people were always wanting things from me and I had to keep a steady job, and…. Anyway, it’s really nice what you’re doing, giving the money to my kids. Thanks.”
“No problem,” I said.
I stood up, getting ready to leave. Lisa stood, too.
“Blaine, wait,” said Jay. We sat back down.
“What?” I asked. “I kinda just want to get out of here, Jay.”
“The Queen’s box?” he asked. “Did you open it again?”
“Yeah, I did,” I said. “And that’s why I don’t feel the least bit sorry that you’re in here for life. If you get butt-raped with a fucking shiv every day, that still wouldn’t be enough punishment for making that shit.”
“Fair enough,” he said.
“And just so you know,” said Lisa, leaning into the glass, “your partner-in-crime in Anaheim? Blaine took care of him. Nobody will ever be selling The Dust again.”
Jay cackled like a goddamned lunatic. It was scary.
“What’s funny about that, you son of a bitch?” asked Lisa.
“Oh, it’s just that you’re both so naïve,” he said, smirking. “I’ve heard of drugs in here that make The Dust look like Pop Rocks. Drugs with a whole list of horrible ingredients, each a million times worse than that one in The Dust you’re in such a huff over.”
He looked straight at Lisa. “People always need an escape. Isn’t that right, Lisa?”
“Fuck you, Jay,” she said, and stood up. “I’ll meet you in the car, Blaine.”
“Still running away, I see,” said Jay.
She turned back. Her face was flushed.
“I’m happy now, Jay. I have the life I’ve always dreamed of. I don’t need to run away from anything, least of all your sorry ass.” She shook her head. “You’re pathetic.”
Jay sat there, stunned.
I stood up, grabbing Lisa’s hand.
“Have a good life, Jay,” I said. “I wish things could’ve been different.”
Jay was silent, staring into space, oblivious now to our presence.
We left the prison, never went back, and never spoke to Jay again. The auction of his memorabilia netted over two million dollars, which was placed into trust accounts. It was all done anonymously. From what I heard, his family was thrilled to get the money. As far as I was concerned, it wasn’t enough payment for a lifetime of dealing with the fact that their father was a sociopath scumbag who loved Disney memorabilia and prison more than his own children. But at least the money would make sure they never had to worry about depending on someone like that ever again.
As cheesy as it sounds, Lisa and I are living happily ever after, just like at the end of a goddamned Disney movie. She found her dream home, an old fieldstone house in a wooded suburb of Baltimore. It actually has a turret on one end. A real castle for my lovely princess. Barf-o-rama, right?
Speaking of barf, I eventually became a full-on vegetarian after the whole turkey leg incident. Literally just stopped being able to stomach the thought of another living creature being killed for my pleasure. Lisa doesn’t mind eating the soy stuff, and I figure not eating meat is keeping both of us slimmer and healthier, too. Can’t say that I don’t totally crave a Geno’s cheesesteak every once in a while, though….
Bill the Lizard didn’t live much longer. Apparently the average lifespan of that sort of lizard was about one year. He lived at least two, from my calculations.
But one morning, a week or two after we’d left the hospital with him, we went onto the little deck of our apartment and found him sunning himself with four miniature lizard babies. Bill was promptly renamed Alice. I have a photo of the five of them, all hanging from my lower lip at the same time. Chips off the old block, they were, and for years we had her relatives as pets, giving some away to family members as the litters expanded, keeping many for ourselves and caring for them in terrariums when the Maryland weather got too cold. Eventually the bloodline died off, but I always felt good about saving Alice/Bill from that crow, a sort of penance for the lizard I’d stepped on and killed all those years ago.
We got a dog, too, when we moved into the new house. Not a husky, like Sam, but a graying old chocolate lab we rescued from a shelter. We named him Charles. Unlike his namesake, he doesn’t do much, just kinda sits around the house, eats, and grunts a lot, but it’s nice having a dog again. He does rock a mean bandana around his neck, just like Sam. White, though, not red.
Lisa made a full recovery, aside from the arm, of course. She has an incredibly lifelike prosthesis, which we immediately tattooed with her missing EPCOT Center pavilion symbols. But the prosthesis doesn’t do much functionally and is really only for appearances, like if we’re going somewhere new where people might be freaked out by her stump. The plastic surgeon offered to make her a hook-type contraption, but she decided against it, saying it’d be more trouble than it was worth. She did a bunch of physical therapy for a while, and that seemed to go a long way towards making her fully self-sufficient.
Most of her time lately has been spent going to school for a BA in psychology. She eventually wants to become a substance abuse counselor, which I’m sure she’ll be great at. She also volunteers as a Big Sister for kids in a local foster home. They adore her.
I couldn’t be prouder. I love her more than I’ve ever loved anything, and it’s the best feeling in the world.
We’re still not married, though, and neither of us is too anxious to have kids. We’ve never explicitly talked about it, but I think she’s scared our baby would turn out like Adam. I guess I am, too. We could always adopt, though.
Anyway, it doesn’t matter, because right now we’re just happy spending every day enjoying each other’s company and being “grown-ups” for the first time in either of our lives. Cooking together, going on trips, watching movies, walking around the neighborhood, and having lots and lots of what I personally think is pretty mind-blowing sex.
I do buy Lisa a teddy bear every year, on the anniversary of the day we first met. We have a nice display case with all of Miss Nancy’s bears neatly arranged in it, and we’re gradually adding to the collection. I’m looking forward to watching it grow….
It’s not all sunshine, of course. She has her bad days like everyone else. Hers just tend to be a lot darker than most people’s. We’ll see something on TV that reminds her of Xanadu, and next thing I know she’s in the bedroom, curtains closed, sobbing in the dark. Sometimes she stays there for days. She goes to therapy every week, but refuses to take any meds, which is understandable, I guess. Hopefully as the years go by there will be fewer and fewer of those dark days. But she can’t forget her past, and I don’t expect her to. For better or worse, it made her into the person I fell in love with.
I’ve taken a bit of a different path in life than I expected: I’m a bestselling self-help author and motivational speaker, which I find utterly hilarious considering I literally can’t go more than two minutes without dropping an f-bomb. Anyway, on a lark I wrote a book called
Life After The Pursuit of Money
, which basically talks about how making money should be a means to an end, not the end in and of itself. It’s pretty silly stuff, actually, but I get flown all over the country to speak in front of executives from Fortune 500 companies about work/life balance, how a number on a paper isn’t worth anything if you’re not happy, and how building up a bank account without using the money for anything positive is the same as hoarding stacks of newspapers … or Disney memorabilia.
People seem to like the way I talk, fucks and shits and all. Those corporate guys get a real kick out of it. The owner of the largest social media site in the world, a billionaire a few times over, recently told me I should go into politics. Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll even run for President some day. I mean, a President who tells Congress to go fuck themselves on live TV before vetoing their bill? Yeah, I’d probably vote for that guy.
But I’ll tell you the best thing to come out of writing the book: revenge. Sweet, sweet revenge. See, Ricky Lu had been MIA since my breakdown. Couldn’t find any trace of him. Even hired a detective. No luck. Then one day I was doing a book signing, and fucking Ricky Lu appeared out of nowhere and out asked me for a job. Seriously.
I didn’t skip a beat. I took down his contact info, shook his hand, and told him I’d be in touch.
A week later he was busted for possession of child porn, which he swore wasn’t his. What a strange coincidence!
In August, shortly after we’d moved to Maryland, I got a call from Charles.
“Blaine, come back to Walt Disney World. You need to see this.”
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Sure, everything is spectacular. You are going to love this.”
So, Lisa and I hopped on a plane the next day, returning to Walt Disney World for the first time since that horrible night.
I felt weird about going back. It had been the paradise of my youth, but now every time I thought of the place, all I could picture was Lisa’s bloody stump, Jay’s crazy tattoos, and that goddamned wand. Paradise lost, indeed.
Charles met us at the Transportation and Ticket Center at The Magic Kingdom, along with Clarabelle. Michael and Belinda were also there with baby Adam.
“This way, everybody,” said Charles as he led us all up the ramp to the EPCOT Center-bound monorail. He talked to the pilot, and motioned us to the forward-most cab. We had front-row seats.
The fifteen minute ride was pleasant enough. We all just sat there in silence, Charles beaming. I wasn’t looking forward to the final loop around Spaceship Earth, though…. The glittering crimson stars at the end of the wand reminded me of The Dust sparkling against Lisa’s blood.
“Charles, I don’t want to see this shit again. It’s depressing.”
“Just you wait, Blaine. Just you wait!”
We rounded the final corner and the park came into view, Spaceship Earth filling the curved window of the monorail.
I gasped.
There was a crane attached to the side of the geosphere. We passed by the crane just as it ripped a huge section of the tip of the wand from its base and swung the red star-studded twist of metal safely past the globe, before dropping it unceremoniously to the ground with a crash.
“They’re tearing down the wand!” I yelled. “There is hope for the future!”
Lisa snuggled up to me, and as I turned my head from the glorious destruction above, I saw her face framed by an amber and blue Florida sunset, and the beauty of the moment was nearly overwhelming.
I looked around at my smiling friends, and my strong, luminous Lisa, and felt that only then, at long last, was I truly a rich man.
But I wasn’t living in some naïve fantasyland anymore. I knew there would still be hurdles to overcome, and struggles against the pain meted out by the random cruelty of fate and the inevitability of death. Except now I understood that the wisdom and serenity gained from pushing past such obstacles, not alone, but with the help of loved ones like those surrounding me… well, that was the stuff of a full life well-lived.
I couldn’t wait for what lay ahead.
