Tears Soak A Calloused Heart

Chapter Two: On The Way Down

Morning came harsh and early when Joe�s alarm clock blared at him.  He groaned and with stiff muscles flipped the switch to shut it off.  He sighed and sat up on the edge of his bed.  As he moved something fell to the floor.  He leaned forward, rubbing his eyes and saw the knife he had stabbed into his mattress the night before.

He glanced at the red, LED display of his clock and saw that it had been a mere three hours since he had stabbed the knife into his mattress.  The night before, he decided, was not quite the right description.  He dressed quietly, hoping only to have a quiet and uneventful day so he could just return home and probably try again.  He slipped downstairs and was glad to discover that his mother and Curt were both still sleeping.  It would be a few days before the thing about the remote blew over so he was just going to avoid them outright.  He drank down a cup of coffee and felt the stiffness beginning to leave his muscles.  He was sore from the injuries on his arms and his neck burned but the general ache was beginning to leave.

With his cup quickly emptied he slipped out of the house and waited on the side of the road for the school bus.  He was early, the bus was still nearly half an hour away but he just wanted some peace and quiet.  The air was cold and his lungs felt icy shard with each breath but really, the solace of the morning invigorated him.  He loved mornings.  When Joe got out of bed he was commonly in the best mood he would be in all day.  His days always were generally downward in momentum as experiences were added.

So, despite the chill, he found peace in the calm blue air as it turned a golden color with the rising sun.  The air was still and due to the early spring cold so was the forest.  All was still and quiet and thus, so was Joe.  He relaxed and barely noticed the numbness in his lips and ears.

When the school bus did finally arrive he seemed to awaken as from a good dream and realize that there was a world out there where things did move and foul the air.  He climbed aboard and studiously ignored the other riders as they joked and cajoled and were spoken to by a disgruntled old woman named Alice.

Before long the bus entered the small town, once centered around logging and sawmills on the wide, frozen river.  The school was built into the side of the river valley off from the main road as it climbed the far bank and turned south.  The school was built to accommodate the high school age students of four surrounding towns but had exceeded its capacity shortly after its construction sometime in the middle of the seventies.

The crowd was thick as students poured off the lined up busses and jostled toward the wide, brown front doors.  He slowed his pace and allowed the crowd to move ahead of him.  He didn�t mind the cold and never liked to be too close to any one of the other students.  Often he felt like their idiocy might rub off on him.

He finally made his way through the doors into the wide receiving hall of the school.  The ceiling was tall, reaching all the way to the roof two stories above.  To the left stretched the main corridor and to the right stood the tall doors that lead to the gymnasium.  The high ceiling served only to amplify and echo the cacophony of noise put up by the throng of students.

Joe slowed his pace and allowed the bulk of the crowd to move off up the corridor toward their lockers and the classrooms.  He hated this part of the school day because the crowds seemed so much more rowdy.  Almost to prove his thoughts two jocks in green letterman�s jackets began tussling and guffawing loudly.  One of the assistant principals told them to settle down and keep the horseplay outside.  Joe was just distantly annoyed by their stupidity.

From out of nowhere a hand struck Joe hard on the shoulder.  He looked and prepared to throw down when he saw the comely face of Carol.  Her long, blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and her slender body was poised for a fight.

"Joe Conrad, you asshole!"  She nearly screamed.

Joe just furled his brow.  What the hell was she going off about now?

"I haven't heard from you in a fucking week."  She continued her face growing redder with each word.  "Do you think you can just fuck me and then forget about me"  Well let me tell you something, you prick, you are not gonna take advantage of me.  If you want to think that there is anything between us you can fucking forget it.  I was drunk and you were there.  That's it.  Got it?!  You can go fuck yourself for all I care."

With that she wheeled and stormed away.  Joe adjusted his jacket and glared after her.  He wasn�t about to get into it with her in the hall.  There was never anything between them to begin with but apparently she didn't feel that way.  Or at least hadn�t before now.

Fuck it.  Ultimately he didn�t care what she though of him.  He had seriously pissed her off, though.  He never meant to imply that he wanted something more.  He hadn't meant to hurt her.

Fuck it.  He moved on.  It didn't matter.  He wouldn't be around much longer to have that sort of misunderstanding again.  He hoped.  Carol was a sweet girl.

***

After Joe's homeroom class he had a study hall.  Commonly he would find reasons to go somewhere like the bathroom or his locker and then take an extraordinarily long time making the trip.  The trick was far from original but he hadn�t been called on it yet so he continued to do it.  It allowed him to take little breaks so the weight of the entire experience didn�t get too heavy.

He had slipped out to retrieve a pen from his locker.  Silly Joe, forgetting his pen.  Again.  He had been wandering the vacant corridors for close to fifteen minutes.  Behind closed doors he heard snippets of lectures, the occasional rowdy students.  All reminders that the world was still there, however, the world was behind stout closed doors.  Just the way Joe preferred it.

He decided to return when the echo of his boots on the linoleum grew tiresome.  He had already smoked three cigarettes in different bathrooms and he didn't want to push his luck.  He didn't care if he got in trouble, that was nothing new, but he didn't want to have anyone confront him about his absence.

That was when the PA chose to come to life and echo its message through the hollow corridor.

"Joseph Conrad please report to Guidance.  Joseph Conrad to Guidance."

He stopped in his tracks.  He closed his eyes and sighed deeply.  He turned and walked back the direction he had just come.  He didn't know what they wanted but he knew that it could not be good.  He went back down the stairs and stopped before the door to the Guidance Office.  The door was stout oak with a large, frosted glass window set into it.  He had only ever stepped foot into the Guidance Office a few times and they were seldom positive visits.  Of course what was positive in his life lately?

He opened the door and entered the wide office.  Dominating the room was a large, steel desk piled high with papers.  In the back of the office were large windows that looked out over the school's parking lot bathed in warming spring sunlight and the leafless trees on the far side.  From the central office were three smaller offices each used by one of the guidance counselors that worked for the school.  From one of these offices a heavyset, middle-aged woman in a hideous floral dress and a black perm hairdo leaned out.

"Are you Joe?"  She asked.

Joe nodded.

"Come on in and have a seat."  She said as she turned back into the office.

As he passed he read the plaque next to her door proclaiming that she was Mrs. Glenda Horace.  He had heard the name before but had never known who she was.  Not that he had particularly cared.

She dropped he bulk into a padded chair behind her large metal desk and Joe sat in a plastic school chair.  The office was as dull as any office he had ever been in with its lack of windows and yellow, cinderblock walls.  In one corner a wilted plant struggled pathetically to add a splash of color and breath of life to the surroundings.  Slowly, yet surely it seemed to be loosing its will to keep up the fight.

"Well Joe,"  Mrs. Horace began.  "I've been looking at your academic records and your grades are all rather low."

Joe knew where this conversation was going.  He felt his energy flow right out of him.  He sat back and stared at the floor.  He felt near collapse.  The plant seemed to share an empathic kinship for he, too, had lost his will to continue.

"What that means Joe, is that you..."  She continued.  "You won't be graduating this year.  There are too many missed classes and assignments for you to make it up in summer school.  According to your disciplinary record you have received twelve detentions that you have not yet served.  Most of them are for missing your classes or unexcused absences."

She paused and looked at him over her glasses.  She seemed to be waiting for a reaction but Joe was in no mood to give one.  Finally she continued.

"It is our policy here that if a student has more then ten detentions or frequent suspensions, as you do, then the student is commonly expelled barring outstanding circumstances.  The faculty will be meeting in two weeks, Joe.  If your performance does not drastically improve then you may not be able to return next year."

Joe simply sat and stared at the floor.  He should have known this was going to happen but somehow he hadn't seen it coming.  Eventually he was excused.  He dragged himself to his feet and walked listlessly out of the room.  He didn't know what he was going to do but more importantly he didn't particularly care.  His time on this world was drawing to a close anyway.  It wouldn't be much longer now.

On the other hand he felt like he wanted, just once, something to go right for him.  He moped through the hall.  Try as he might he couldn't seem to figure out how long he had been speaking with Mrs. Horace.  He sighed.

As he walked the class bell rang loudly.  He flinched at the sound and then cringed at what he knew would happen next.

A moment later the doors lining the halls slammed open and the corridor filled with a flood of raucous chatter and hormone fueled idiocy.  The negative space of the hall filled quickly with students.  The throng of bodies jostled and hollered.  Joe hated these moments.  These times when he was surrounded by chaotic humanity.  He hated each and every one of them and felt like he could not properly defend himself.  He moved quickly with the flow and broke away when he got to his locker.  He spun the lock with numb fingers and finally managed to get it open.

He leaned forward, panting.  He closed his eyes and leaned heavily on the door.  He tried his best to hide himself and appear like there was noting out of the ordinary about his actions.  He never wanted to attract attention.  Especially at times of vulnerability.  He struggled to regain his composure.  To patch up that shell of hardened iron.

A wave of anguish washed over him.  His knees went weak and he grabbed hold of the door of his locker to steady himself.  He leaned toward the door to hide his face from the teeming masses behind him.  The noise of the hall died away.  He felt like he was just going to collapse right there.  He couldn�t go on.  His body was wracked by pain and he shuddered.  His entire will to exist poured out of him and nearly pooled on the floor at his feet.  He panted and sobbed though no tears came.

He hated this.  He knew there was no reason to feel the way he did.  The pain and torment of the world just seemed to catch up with him and pull him screaming from reality like so many madly laughing demons.  He wanted to scream.  He wanted to cry.  He wanted to smash his face into his locker as hard as he could.  He wanted everything to stop.  He wanted to end his existence once and for all.  He had nothing to live for.  There was no sanctity in the world.  There was no salvation.  Like a drowning person reaching for a life preserver he had tried everything, religion, drugs.  Nothing worked.  Nothing could save him and there was nothing beyond this cruel world.  He knew that and knew that there was no reason to continue.  What was hope worth in a world where everything eventually turned to shit?

The second of the claxons rang through the corridor, cutting off all of the other noise for a moment in time.  The bell signaled that students had five minutes to reach their next class or be considered tardy.  Once that third bell rang the classes began, with or without them.

Joe snapped back to the world.  Behind him everyone surged into purposeful movement.  Joe struggled to remember what his next class was.  He hated this.  He couldn�t think.  His mind felt empty of everything.  Finally he grabbed a book at random, slammed the door and moved away.  As he walked he tried to clear his head and focus.  Where the fuck was he going?  Down the hall, obviously.  He really hoped that his next class was at least in the general direction he was already traveling.  He didn't want to have to do an about face and go the other direction.  He could always go up the stairs near the cafeteria end of the building, move back across the building via the second floor corridor and come down the stairwell near the front entrance.  If he did that he would be late, guaranteed.

Then it came to him.  He had Algebra next with the positively hag-like Mrs. Mann.  He really hated that class but fortunately it was upstairs so he was moving in the general direction.  He looked at the book he was holding.  Psychology.  Definitely not the class he was going to.  It didn�t matter.  He wasn�t going to pay any attention anyway.  Not that Mrs. Mann would understand the concept of teaching even if drilled directly into her brain at six hundred RPM.

"Hey, Joe."  The voice came from beside him.

Joe looked over and saw the blank look of Mr. Landis.  Mr. Landis was tall, taller than Joe, and lanky.  He had jet black hair and a bushy beard to match on his long face.  Joe nodded and kept walking hoping that Mr. Landis had only spoken in greeting.  However, by his tone it was obvious that he was only just beginning.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"  Mr. Landis asked.

"I have to get to class."  Joe said plainly as he kept walking, ignoring the idiot next to him.

"I'll write you a pass."  Mr. Landis said putting a hand on Joe's arm.

Joe stopped and spun on Mr. Landis.  No one touched him unless he wanted them to.  Lesser people had been beaten savagely for such things.  He checked himself and breathed deeply.  He couldn�t plow a teacher into the floor in the middle of the school hallway.

"What?"  Joe spat at him.

"It's important."  Mr. Landis said, his voice purposefully calm.

Joe was furious.  He didn't care that he would be late for Algebra, he just hated Mr. Landis' audacity.  Who the fuck did this idiot think he was?  Mr. Landis motioned toward and empty classroom.

"We can talk in here."  He said.

Joe turned and stomped into the room.  The door shut quietly behind them blocking out the sound of the corridor.  The classroom was a science lab so it contained large, tall black tables instead of the customary desks.

"Have a seat."  Mr. Landis said in the same soft tone.

Joe dropped his book onto the table with a loud snap and tossed himself into one of the tall swivel chairs.  Mr. Landis sat down in another.  Joe knew there was no way to avoid this so he was just going to ignore it and let his fury fuel his apathetic demeanor.

There was an uncomfortable silence as Mr. Landis seemed to be thinking of how to start.

"You know, Joe."  He began, still maintaining his false calm and placating tone.  "If there is anything that you need to discuss.  Anything you need to get out.  The school can help.  Any of us."

Joe sat and looked at him blankly.

"I know it can seem difficult.  I know that it can seem weird because it's school and all but we're here if you need us."

What the fuck was he talking about?

"Is there anything you want to talk about?"

Joe blinked.

Mr. Landis sighed and hung his head for a moment.  He seemed confused and concerned.  All an elaborate act.  Joe could tell.  He had never liked Mr. Landis and probably never would.  There was something deceitful and unnerving about him.

Mr. Landis lifted his head and fixed his eyes on Joe.  However, Joe was too busy studying his boots to meet his eye.

"I was talking to Mrs. Horace just a little while ago."  He continued.  "She-  She said she saw what looked like a bandage on your arm."

Joe fidgeted a bit.  He remained blank but cursed himself.  It was mistakes like that that brought unwanted attention like this.  He just wanted to get out now.  He didn't want to be talking to a shithead like Tom Landis about this sort of thing.  He didn't want to talk to anyone about this sort of thing.

He just wanted to go home.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"  Mr. Landis asked softly.

Joe lifted his head lazily.

"No."  He said simply.

Mr. Landis paused for a moment, seemingly unsure.

"So something did happen to your arm then?"

Joe rolled his eyes.  He wanted out right then and there.  No more talking to this dumbass.  No more.  Just simple freedom.

"I don't think it's any of your business."  Joe said, locking eyes with Mr. Landis.

Mr. Landis looked away.

"Did you hurt yourself, Joe?"  Mr. Landis asked looking back to Joe's face.

In a sudden rush of adrenaline and motion Joe was out of his chair, book in hand and moving for the door.

"Joe-"  Mr. Landis said as he passed.

Fuck off Landis!

Joe was out the door.  The corridor was empty again.  Joe was glad.  He sighed and tried to maintain his composure.  The struggle to do so seemed to be getting harder and harder with each passing day.  That was okay.  There would be precious few more of those days. 

***

"Joe."

Someone had spoken.  Someone had disturbed him.  He looked to see who it was.

He was still in class.  Algebra.  Mrs. Mann, wide and short with a twisted face behind massive glasses, glared at him.

"Joe,"  She said.  "if you're not going to pay attention you can always nap in detention."

"I wasn't sleeping."  He responded quietly.  Hag.

"Pay attention to the lesson."  She reiterated as she turned back to the board.

"I was."  He mumbled to himself.

"What was that?"  She snapped as she turned back to him.

"I said, I was."  He repeated annoyed.

"Yeah,"  She spoke harshly.  "is that why you're failing?"

He sighed and looked back out the window.  Triumphantly she spun back around to the chalkboard where she had been scrawling mathematics.  He hoped she felt wonderful with her victory.

Bitch.

***

Instead of eating his lunch Joe slipped out of the building.  The school did not offer an open campus to its seniors but that didn�t stop Joe.  No one stood in his way as he moved around the building and up the cluttered trail through the trees.  The path led about a hundred yards through the forest up the hillside behind the school to a clearing called around the school the 'Smoking Spot'.

The bare, littered ground of the clearing greeted Joe.  He glanced around and was relieved to see it empty.  He walked over to a large ash tree around the perimeter of the clearing and leaned against it.

Joe reached a shaking hand into his jacket and removed a pack of cigarettes.  He flipped the top of the box open and looked inside.  He still had about a quarter of the pack left.  However, a cigarette wasn�t what he was after.  Also tucked into the pack was a small, stainless steel pipe.  This he removed and held in is fingers.  He then pulled a small, plastic baggie rolled tightly around itself and opened it up.  Inside was about three grams of dry, green marijuana.

He tucked the cigarette pack back into his pocket and filled the bowl with pinches of pot.  Once packed he rolled the baggie back up and tucked it back into the pack of cigarettes.  He pulled out a lighter and lit the pipe.

Leaning his head back he sucked on the pipe, breathing the smooth smoke deep into his lungs.  As he held it his nervousness and tension seeped slowly away.  The worries and anxiety of the world seemed to just fade away with the wind.  With each hit off his bowl he grew more relaxed and more at peace with not only the world but also with himself.

Sometime later he heard the bell announcing the end of one lunch period and the beginning of another.  He paid it no attention.  He had no desire to go to his shorter lunchtime class anyway.  He was out in the fresh air and the calm of the day and the last thing he wanted to do was go back inside.  Once lunch was over he had one more class, Geology, and then his day was over and could go home.  For lack of anything better to do, he would probably go.

Joe heard two voices approaching along the path.  They sounded like students so he didn't bother to hide his bowl.  The number of students who smoked pot was very large so no one seemed to take any notice of it.  Joe took another hit off the bowl as two stoners emerged into the clearing.  They acknowledged Joe.

"Hey."  One of them said.

"What's up?"  The other said in greeting.

Joe nodded in response and continued to mind his own business.  They lit up cigarettes and began chattering among themselves.  Joe vaguely listened to their conversation and realized that they were talking about a party, planned for that night.  Joe had forgotten all about it.  BK, or the Burnout King, had invited him the week before.  Needless to say, Joe had gotten distracted.  He thought perhaps he would go.  He wasn�t sure.

"Hey Joe."  One of the stoners said from across the clearing.  "You goin' to BK's party tonight?"

"I don't know."  Joe said as he took another hit.

"You know, I hear Jenny's gonna be there."  The other said with a leer.

"Yeah, dude, you gotta go."

Joe thought these two might have been some of the groupies that followed Jenny around just because she was a musician.  He couldn't remember though he never really paid attention to the little social groups that formed around school.  He wasn't part of any of them and only moved around the edges of a few groups so why bother to pay attention.  She had told Joe once or twice that she really couldn't stand them.  He didn't blame her.

"Maybe."  Joe said plainly.

Joe sat down on the chill ground and went back to ignoring the two stoners.  He continued puffing on his bowl and they went back to their conversation.

Jenny was going to be there.

Joe decided that he could put off killing himself.  He'd go to the party after work and maybe even have a good time.  He scoffed.  He couldn't remember the last time he had truly enjoyed himself.  Still, Jenny was going to be there.  He noticed her when she first started going to school with him.  She was one of the punk rock girls that Joe always found so desirable.  Unlike most, Jenny was also intelligent and creative.  Traits Joe valued above nearly everything else.

He would definitely go.  He would probably even socialize with her after generating a fair amount of alcohol induced bravado.  Deep down he'd always had a thing for Jenny.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there smoking his bowl but at some point in time the two stoners, Joe couldn't remember their names, had left.  He stood up and knocked the ash out of his bowl.  Making sure the metal wasn't too hot he put it back into his cigarette pack.  Distantly he heard the ring of the third lunch bell.  He smoked a cigarette to get the smell of dope off from him and decided he should probably make his way to Geology.

The teacher, a hippy who insisted the students call him Bob, ribbed Joe for being late but made no further mention of it.  Before he even realized it had started the class was over and students were flooding the corridors again.  Joe slipped out and darted his way through the crowd.  He hated to linger at this time of day.

As usual he was the first one on the bus.  He never brought his books home, deciding to leave them in a stack in his locker, and he seldom carried a backpack or other bag so he was always out of the school before the lines formed for the busses.

Alice did her best to pretend she didn't notice Joe walk past her.  He didn't care.  He thought she was an overstressed bitch and preferred to avoid conversation.  He chose a seat about half way down the length of the bus and sat down.  Joe minded his own business as the bus filled up and pulled away.

Often he read a book during the long bus ride but lately he had been unable to concentrate or even really enjoy it when he did.  So there he sat, forever watching the world go by outside the glass.  He saw little snippets of people's lives when he watched out of vehicle windows.  He saw arguments.  Broke down vehicles.  Lonely souls watching from windows and porches.  Tidbits of crisis and pain that all life seemed to entail.

On this day, as seemed the case for every day he rode the bus home lately, he was forced to listen to the incessant blathering of some unknown girls sitting a few seats in front of him.  Their stop was near the end of the long bus route as was Joe's so he was stuck listening to them on a nearly empty bus for what seemed like hours at a time.

They giggled and talked about someone who Joe knew only in passing.  Apparently he had asked the ringleader girl out on a date.  She had, apparently, harshly shot him down with several derogatory statements about his appearance.  It was a testament to her stupidity that those complaints, long hair, unshaven, also matched Joe who sat listening nearby.  Joe really just wanted to smash her idiot face into the bus window repeatedly and forcefully.  The world would be a quieter place if nothing else.


Novels Home
Chapter One: Life Is Cheap, Death is Free
Chapter Two: On The Way Down
Chapter Three: From The Bottom Looking Up
Chapter Four: As These Tears Soak A Calloused Heart