12/2/05

“Sunny Days”

Brad Walker

It was December in Megalopolis; unforgivingly cold in that part of the country at that time of year, and Eleanor Pavarski was wandering around in the piercing wind and snow without a coat. She was seventeen, and most of her peers thought her crazy. She was infamous for making up outlandish stories that were far from believable, by any means; she had violent mood swings and often indulged in week-long drug binges, hedonistic orgies, and—if you believe the rumors—Satanic rituals.

Megalopolis was a drafty city. The buildings weren’t placed as closely together as they often were in other cities of that kind of stature; thus the wind blew in and out of the various alleys and backstreets between the buildings, creating sounds that resembled screams and moans of terror.

Eleanor had spent a long while away from the City of Hope; nearly two years, in fact. Prior to leaving, she told everyone who would listen that she was journeying to Martinique—a little, French island in the Caribbean—and that she would never again be seen in Megalopolis. And, for a long while, that had truly been her plan. One day she left her house as if she was going to school, and simply never returned. She walked past her inner city high school and onward, out of the city limits, and further still, until even the tallest spires atop the highest buildings in Megalopolis (a great deal larger than any other city in the world, at the time) could no longer be seen.

Her idea was that she would walk, or possibly hitchhike, until she reached the coast. She would purchase a plane ticket there—for it would be far less expensive there than if she bought it straight out of Megalopolis. Once she was in Martinique, she would live in a grass hut, where she would smoke hashish and make love to all manner of interesting people who inhabited that remote island.

Or so she thought. Instead, she got turned around and stranded out in the vast, flat middle lands, where nothing can be seen from miles around but agriculture and a few meager houses, miles and miles apart. During that period of time, she kept company with many strange and unsavory people; doing all manner of things to earn money. Finally, after two years, her parents (her father, a very highly respected police officer in Megalopolis, and her mother, a doting housewife) tracked her to that bland part of the country. There they found her living in squalor, in a shack along the highway that was falling into disrepair, with a sixty-two-year-old sex offender. They all but disowned her, and dragged her back to Megalopolis, kicking and screaming.

With her dreams of escaping to the Caribbean canceled indefinitely, Eleanor’s stories became all the more extravagant. Upon returning to the City of Hope, she renounced the name “Eleanor Pavarski” and unofficially changed it to “Sunshine”, in hopes of recapturing her warm fantasies of the Caribbean Sea. It was also these flights of the imagination that kept her warm and without a coat in the middle of December; only further proving her insanity to those around her.

“Sunny’s so cool! She took me to lunch yesterday and gave me this bracelet she made!” An impressionable, young freshman girl at Sunshine’s school told a friend.

“What the hell are you talking about? Who’s ‘Sunny’?” Her slightly older, more cynical friend asked.

“Sunshine; you know, the girl who just came back after living two years in Martinique.”

“… Do you mean Eleanor Pavarski?”

“No, she changed her name to ‘Sunshine’ now.”

“That bitch is crazy. I heard she never even went to Martinique or wherever the fuck she said she was.” The second girl said. “Somebody told me that she ran away and that they found her in some dump out in B.F.E. (1), turnin’ tricks for creepy, old men.”

“… Shut up! You’re just jealous because you can’t spend two years in paradise.”

“Whatever. At least I don’t eat pussy like she does.”

The younger girl had no retort.

Sunshine loved sex to the point of nymphomania. Men, women, it made no difference. To her, both had their advantages and disadvantages; thus she felt it necessary to have both sexes present during fornication, if at all possible. Since the age of twelve, she had not denied intercourse to anyone, no matter who they were: friend, stranger, and—in some instances—customer. If she were offered money or drugs in exchange for sex, she would gladly take it, but it usually wasn’t necessary; she was more than willing.

But there was one person, in particular, whom she yearned for more than any other. His name was Ernest Marcum, and he would have been well-suited for her; a far better companion than any filthy, old man, lady of the evening, or paying customer. He was her age, a senior at the same high school that she attended and was in many of her classes. He wasn’t particularly bright, or even well-liked, but neither was Sunshine. But, alas, he was not interested, for Sunshine’s reputation preceded her. Aside from that, he also was in a committed relationship with a young lady, whom he cared about very much: the soft-spoken Adamina Global.

Sunshine would not let something as small as a silly, little girlfriend deter her, however. And from the very moment that Ernest told her that he and Adamina were involved and that he wasn’t interested in her, she began to plot. In her head, she started dreaming up a new fantasy to replace the lost grass hut in Martinique. She would become Adamina’s friend—her very good friend—then from there, she would begin to drive a wedge between her and Ernest, eventually separating them for good. This scheme soon proved more feasible than escaping to the Caribbean. All of the pieces were falling into place. She had won over Adamina’s friendship (in spite of her many unnerving idiosyncrasies): the first part of her plan was completed. Now came the more difficult task of driving the two ardent lovers apart.

Rumors of Sunshine’s attempts to come between Ernest and Adamina began to take flight, but soon crashed into the ground because no one cared to hear about those three particular people; they weren’t beautiful or glamorous enough to make for good gossip. So, for the most part, Sunshine’s sinister plot remained a secret. Those who did catch wind of this brushed it off as nothing of great importance; no need to warn Ernest and Adamina. “They’re too in love,” they thought. “Someone like Eleanor Pavarski could never break them up.” On top of that, Adamina was far prettier (and, not to mention, light-years closer to sanity) than Sunshine. True, Sunny may have had a small waist, porcelain-esque skin without blemishes, and large, perky breast, but her face was not that of a beautiful woman.

Hearing folks whisper about that only made Sunshine more determined to win over Ernest’s affection. She would continue with her plan to build a wall between him and Adamina, and now with more determination. It was time to put the second half of her plan into effect; and so, without giving it another thought, she walked into class and the first thing she said to Adamina was…

“Oh my god! Guess what Lorelei told me!”

It was coming to the end of November in Megalopolis, and each morning it became more and more difficult folks to get up and face the cold streets and bus stops and poorly heated classrooms. It was 6:45 AM and Bryan Oglevie was sitting on the floor, just inside of the doorway of the school, waiting for classes to start. A bus pulled up outside and a flood of students began passing through the halls, on their way to wherever it is they would go until seven o’clock. He noticed his friend, Lorelei McGregor and waved her down.

“G’mornin’.” He greeted, with a very vague southern drawl.

“Hey.” She replied, taking a seat beside him, on the floor.

“Reverting back to public transportation this mornin’, I see.” Bryan observed.

“Yeah,” Lorelei replied. “I guess you didn’t hear about my tires.”

“Nope.”

“Well yesterday went out to the parking lot at the end of the day, and, lo and behold, my tires had been slashed!” She explained.

“Wow. By who?”

“Adamina, of all people, and that cunt Eleanor Pavarski… or Sunshine, or Shitface, or whatever the fuck she’s calling herself now!”

“Ooh, Sunny… She’s fuckin’ nuts.”

“Tell me about it!”

Lorelei, Bryan, Adamina, and Ernest were all good friends up until Sunshine came into the picture. She had been stirring up suspicion between the four of them about each other. There had been talk of Bryan and Adamina sharing intimate evenings together at his apartment, where he lived alone. Ernest wasn’t quick to believe such a thing; however it did leave an uncomfortable, nagging feeling on the back of his neck. Worse were the rumors of Ernest and Lorelei, who were once a legitimate couple, not long before he and Adamina began seeing each other. Word of those alleged scandals began to drive the usually sedate and even-tempered Adamina into a silent madness, which broke free one morning, when Sunshine came into class, proclaiming that she had heard Lorelei boasting that she and Ernest had made love the night before.

“Three times.” Sunshine told her. “That’s how many times she said they did it last night.”

Adamina was in tears. “… What do I do now?”

“Well you’re not gonna sit there and just let her shit all over you like that, are you?!” Sunshine exclaimed.

“What am I supposed to do?”

Sunshine smiled deviously. “Come on; I’ll show ya what you do.”

“Later, this girl I kinda know—her name’s Tess; she sits close to me in Chemistry—told me she saw them out in the parking lot. Adamina was being the ‘lookout’ and when she saw Tess she yelled something like ‘Shit! Somebody saw us! Let’s get outta here Sunny!’… like a dumbass.” Lorelei explained.

Bryan chuckled a little. “Yeah, way to incriminate yourself.”

“I know!” Lorelei concurred. “So then that bitch Sunny, or whatever, comes stumbling to her feet, holding something in her hand, and they run off.”

“What was it?”

“A steak knife. That’s what the marks on my tires look like they were cut with, anyway.” Lorelei replied. “Oh! And get this! I went to the police department, to file a report and they tell me that they can’t do anything, because my tires ‘weren’t cut’… that I ‘must have busted them on a curb’ or some bullshit like that! I’d like to know what the hell kind of curb I was driving on that slashed all four of my tires, while I was in class!”

“Yeah, her dad’s the sheriff or somethin’. She’s got connection in the police department.”

“Ya wanna know what’s even creepier? When I came out of the police station, she was standing right there, outside the door. And the other day, when I was leaving my cousin’s place, I saw her glaring at me across the street. And right after that, I went to the grocery store, and when I came out, there she was! That little bitch is stalking me and it’s freaking me out!”

“Man, she must be out for your blood.”

“She’s out for Ernie’s cock is what it is. That’s why she’s been giving us so much hell.”

“… You two didn’t really sleep together… did you?” Bryan asked.

“Of course not!” Lorelei snapped. “I’ve been down that road, and it leads to me not having an orgasm.”

“What the fuck do you want from me?! What?!” Ernest was shouting at Sunshine from nearly a block down the street; she had been following him for some time. He was angry; his face was red with fury, and veins could be seen protruding from his neck and forehead.

“You, Ernie! I want you!” Sunshine adoringly called back to him.

Up the street, Ernest was fuming, breathing heavily, eyes alight with rage. “FUCK YOU!” He screamed with all of the fury and frustration he had for this woman; for all the things she had done to come between he and Adamina and their friends.

Sunshine was shocked. The feelings of disappointment and humiliation crept all through her body like cold water spilled across a Formica tabletop.

“I fuckin’ hate you!” Ernest continued, in his blind rage. “And if I ever see you come within ten miles of me or Adamina or any of my friends, I swear to fuckin’ God, I’ll snap your goddamn neck!”

‘So the dream is over once again…’ Sunshine thought, tears streaming down her face.

The two of them stood there, motionless and silent for a long while before Ernest finally spoke up. “… Now get the fuck outta here!” And so she did. She backed up, walking backwards, slowly at first, then she turned and she was running. She ran for hours, and before she could think about it, she was standing at the edge of Lake Omega, at the center of the city; the slushy, black, polluted waters lapping up on her boots, seeping through them and making her socks wet.

It was December in Megalopolis; unforgivingly cold in that part of the country at that time of year, and Eleanor Pavarski was wandering around in the piercing wind and snow without a coat. She was sitting on a bench, it was later that evening, and she was holding a gun.

“… So what are you planning to do with that?” Asked the fellow sitting beside her. He had spoke in a low voice—almost to the point of mumbling—and used almost no inflection. She had been so totally consumed with her angst and self-deprecation that she had not noticed him sitting there.

“I’m gonna shoot them.” She replied.

“… Who?”

“Ernest… Adamina, Lorelei… myself, everybody… I donno.”

“Why would you wanna do a thing like that?”

“… They’re mocking me… They’re all mocking me right now, I know it.”

“You shouldn’t kill people; it’s messy.”

“I don’t care; Ernest hates me and still loves Adamina, even after everything I did to pull them apart. … They all deserve to die.”

“… You’re being stupid, not to mention selfish.”

Her eyes darted up to him for the first time. He was wearing a black, woolen trench coat. He was young (around her age) and had dark hair and green eyes.

“Do you really wanna piss off the chick with the gun?!”

He ignored her. “You should really reevaluate your priorities.”

“Fuck you; you’ve got no right to judge me, you don’t even know me.” She hissed.

“Fine.” He said, standing up and walking away from her.

“Where are you going?!” She yelled. He didn’t reply.

Suddenly the weight of his words hit her with full force. She was being stupid and selfish, and she did need to reevaluate her priorities. Most importantly she needed to get her life in order and stop dreaming. Reality was harsh and in order to survive she would need to learn to adjust to things as they happen. Things wouldn’t always go her way.

“Wait! Come back!” She called to him.

“… I’ve gotta be somewhere.”

“But wait! What’s your name?!” She sprang to her feet and began to move after him.

“… Sage.”

She stopped. The tears began to spring to her eyes again. “… A-Are… you an angel, Sage?”

He stopped in his tracks, laughed heartily, and turned around to face her. “Hardly!”

He crossed the street, and turned up a different direction, and that was the last she saw of him.

She stood there for a long while, gun in hand, not know what she should do or where she should go. Finally, after staring at it for a long moment, she tossed the pistol aside, and began to walk. She should be getting home, she thought, it’s gotten awfully dark, and she could begin building her new life in the morning.

Ten days later her body was found stuffed in a garbage can.

Fín

Author’s Note: This is one in a series of short stories I’m working on for a collection called the MEGALOPOLIS SHORT STORY PROJECT. All the stories that are part of the MSSP take place in the city of Megalopolis (hence the name) and are either directly or indirectly connected to the novel I’m working on: The Boogieman Theory (please, if you found this story at all interesting, take a jaunt on over to my page and check out TBT; I’m very proud of it). All of these short stories are basically tying up loose ends in The Boogieman Theory—telling the back and side stories of some of the minor characters and all. Thank you for reading. Please, if you have the time, leave a review; I’m always looking to improve.

(1)B.F.E.: It stands for “Bum-fuck Egypt” and it’s a colloquial term that means anywhere out in the boons, “away from civilization” basically. The only reason I mention this here is because I’m not sure how widely used it is, or if it’s just something used around where I live.