Crazy Joe

Jonas Raghnall shook off his jacket and held it over his head as he jogged from his two-room apartment to the grocery store across the street. The smell of spring rain followed him through the door, making him smile. The drops hit the ground so hard it looked like they jumped back up again. Inside, he shook out his jacket before he put it on and waved at Megan by the checkout, then hurried in past the automatic gates. The jacket fabric was damp against his skin and the floor a little slippery under the soles of his neon-colored sneakers. He’d been tempted to buy the pink glittery ones, but while he didn’t have large feet for a man, he would’ve had to make a special order. He sighed. If only women’s feet could’ve been a little bigger, just a little. It was probably a good thing they weren’t, though. He was an adult now, and while he refused to fully follow the norm, his days of pink glitter shoes were over. Not having the option of impulse buying them made it easier to ensure his days of glitter shoes truly were over. Sighing again, he focused on his shopping. He only needed milk…and maybe some chocolate. Yes, chocolate. His mouth watered—coffee, chocolate, and dry clothes. It was all a man needed to be happy. Glitter didn’t make the list…not when he stuck to the short list. Grinning—since he’d soon have everything he needed to be happy—he zigzagged past the few late-night shoppers strolling down the aisles, grabbed the milk, and turned toward the checkout. Tomorrow was Monday, his favorite day of the week. To be honest, he liked all the days of the week, but since Mondays had such a bad reputation, he figured they needed some extra love. If you were to trust statistics, Mondays were bad—most heart attacks and suicides happened on Mondays. But since he didn’t plan on doing away with himself or have a heart attack, there was no reason to mope on a Sunday night. “Excuse me. Do you know where I can find coconut milk?” The air froze in Jonas’ lungs. As panic exploded in his mind, he dived behind the flour shelf. The milk carton hit the gray speckled floor tile. One of the bottom corners was dented, and a drop of milk slowly bled out on the floor. Damn it! Picking up the carton, he held his breath and listened to Mrs. Moor telling Abe Cooper—the Abe Cooper—to look on the ethnic shelf. Maybe it wasn’t Abe Cooper. It couldn’t be Abe Cooper. Why would Abe Cooper be in Northfield? He wouldn’t be. He’d be in Whiteport, happily married to some woman who’d been part of the cheerleading squad in high school. They’d have two children, a pristine white home, and maybe a dog if it didn’t shed too much hair. And it was good. It was how it should be. The churning in his stomach was an illusion. Jonas was perfectly fine with Abe and his wife, happy for them even. He could’ve sworn he’d recognize Abe’s voice everywhere, but he’d been wrong because Abe Cooper couldn’t be here. Northfield was Jonas’ home, and there were no Abe Coopers in his town. Slowly, he tiptoed closer to the voices and tried to get a glimpse of the man who sounded like Abe Cooper but couldn’t be. One step led to another, and another. He craned his neck and tried to see around the corner of the shelf without being seen. Mrs. Moor walked away and Jonas flattened himself against the wall of wheat flour, the edges of the shelves digging into his back. “Crazy Joe? Erm…I mean, Joe?” Jonas stared. Yup, Abe Cooper was in his grocery store. He was as tall as Jonas remembered. The shoulders fit him better these days, and the beard was new. At eighteen, he’d been clean-shaven. His eyes were the same and they still had the ability to burn trails along his skin. “It’s Jonas.” Jonas cleared his throat, straightened his back, and resisted the urge to run a hand through his unruly hair. Abe’s intense gaze ran over his face as if making an inventory of how he’d changed since they’d last seen each other. It had been sixteen years, so there were bound to be some changes. Jonas bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. He refused to think of that day—that day was long gone, and it would stay buried for the rest of Jonas’ existence. That was the plan, had been the plan since the first Monday of his new life. “Is it? I’m pretty sure it’s Joe.” Jonas raised an eyebrow. “It’s Jonas, has always been Jonas, will most likely always be Jonas. And I’m pretty sure, since I’m Jonas.” “Are you sure? I mean, of course, you’re sure, but you know everyone called you Cra—Joe, right?” Abe scratched his beard. A beard—it looked good on him, so Jonas averted his eyes. “Well, everyone called you Abe and I’m sure your given name is Abraham or something.” “No, it’s Abe, actually.” Of course it was. Abe Cooper, so much cooler than Jonas Raghnall—both in name and person. But it didn’t matter, they weren’t in high school anymore, and Jonas was happy with his life. What was in the past would remain in the past. He wasn’t wasting any time…remembering. Chocolate, he needed to get some chocolate, and the romcom he’d planned on watching started on TV in a few minutes, so he had to go. Life was good—Sunday evening, movie, and chocolate. Nothing that happened sixteen years ago could ruin that. * * * * Abe Cooper tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry. How many times had he wondered what had happened to Crazy Joe? Jonas. The last day he’d seen Jonas before he disappeared he’d had a horrible feeling and he’d spent many years trying to shake it, but every time Crazy Joe had popped up in his mind it was followed by unease. Something terrible had happened, and he wasn’t sure, but maybe he was part of it. Joe—Jonas—had been a year after him in school, but everyone knew who he was. Crazy Joe—swishy Joe with glitter stains on his jeans who’d argue his opinion in every matter. He’d been brilliant, though. Abe had always been in awe of the way he expressed himself. In retrospect, Abe had realized how smart he was, and how much he must’ve read to know what he did back then. Sure, he’d argued conspiracy theories left and right and always had a rather grim view of society, but they’d been teens—a certain amount of f**k-the-world and know-it-all attitude was to be expected. Abe had had it in spades. Many believed Joe was crazy for real, but Abe was sure it was just a case of being different. High school wasn’t the most forgiving environment. He sighed, wished he’d done things differently, but he hadn’t been very brave back then. “Well, it was nice seeing you, Abe. Take care.” Joe turned, and before Abe had time to blink, he was several steps away. Panic rose in his chest. “Wait! Joe…nas.” Abe didn’t stop to see if Jonas would wait. He trotted to catch up with him. “That day—” “Forget about it.” The smile Jonas gave him was haunted and an invisible fist punched him in the gut. Not only had Abe played a part in what had happened, but Jonas knew it. “I…can’t. I-I…what happened? I need to know.” There had been so many rumors. Crazy Joe beaten to death, sold into trafficking, gone into rehab, kidnapped. The kidnapped theory had the biggest following since Jonas never came back to school after the weekend. But Abe had seen him on the Sunday, so he was sure he hadn’t been abducted. He’d heard his mom tell one of the neighborhood women about how perhaps it was for the better to move a boy like that to a different school. A boy like that. Jonas’ grin was too bright, the shrug too careless to be believable. “I don’t remember.” Given a little time, Abe could remember the outline of the bruises on his face. The sun had been shining and at first glance, Abe had thought it was some strange shadow falling over Jonas where he’d stood behind the ice cream stand where he used to work on the weekends, talking to an older man Abe had assumed was the owner. His lip had been split and swollen, he’d had a Band-Aid behind his left ear, and a butterfly strip over a cut on his cheek. Someone had shaved off part of Jonas’ thick, wild hair. Abe shook his head, not wanting to remember the stark fear in Jonas’ eyes when Abe had walked closer to him. They hadn’t talked. A jolt had shot through Abe when he’d met Jonas’ gaze and he’d…walked away. Coward, he’d been such a coward. “Are you…erm…” He rubbed his neck. “You wanted to work with the theater, right?” Abe remembered he’d had a part in some school play, though he couldn’t say which one, he’d been too busy making out with Stephanie Samuelsen to know what it was about. He shuddered at the memory of her sticky-sweet perfume mixed with the bubblegum she always chewed. Jonas tilted his head and a lock of his brown not-quite-curly-but-not-entirely-straight hair fell into his eyes. “No, I never wanted to perform.” He hadn’t? He’d always hung around the art kids, and he’d never hesitated to speak up if he wanted to say something, had never feared attention. He’d held presentations in front of the entire school, had debated one thing after the other. Abe recalled him being in the school orchestra for a short time, and he definitely remembered him being part of arranging an art show in favor of some charity. They’d had an away game that night so Abe hadn’t gone—probably wouldn’t have if he’d been home either. He wasn’t ‘a boy like that’…except, in a way, he was. Not artsy, not openly passionate about stuff, not fighting to right some injustice. But, no matter how hard he’d tried to hide it, he’d been a boy like that…even back then. “O-okay.” “It was nice seeing you, Abe.” Jonas didn’t look like it was nice seeing him. Abe curled his fingers into fists so he wouldn’t reach for him. He tried to speak, tried to halt Jonas’ escape, but he was already halfway to the checkout. It was just as well. He’d moved here to start over, and Jonas couldn’t be part of his life if he wanted a fresh start. His heart ached, the words he wanted to speak turned into ashes on his tongue, but it was for the best. Now that he’d seen Jonas and knew he was well, he could put the memory to rest.